


Zero Minus Ten

by McSparklez, mjartrod



Series: MB-7 [4]
Category: James Bond - All Media Types, Muse (Band)
Genre: 007, Angst, Belldom - Freeform, Drama, Drones Era, Established Relationship, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Secret Intelligence Service | MI6, Suspense, Thriller
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-27
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2019-05-14 10:23:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 70,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14767784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/McSparklez/pseuds/McSparklez, https://archiveofourown.org/users/mjartrod/pseuds/mjartrod
Summary: "Surround yourself with Human Beings. They are easier to fight for than principles." Sequel to Never Dream of Dying.





	1. Faded

**Author's Note:**

> No, it’s not a hallucination, it really is the third installment of MB-7 :) It’s been a while, sorry it took us all this time! (first chapter and we’re already apologising for delays! Keeping up with tradition, we say?) It’s been a mix of lack of time combined with a slightly longer story, that we want to make sure turns out right. 
> 
> So without further ado, here is Zero Minus Ten, the third and final part of the adventures of midget agent. We hope you enjoy this journey :D

 

_London, United Kingdom_

_Saturday, 28th November 2015_

_23:47_

 

There are moments that make you reevaluate your life choices and change everything forever.

For Chris, there were a few big ones that he'd remember for the rest of his life; holding Alfie only moments after he was born or stepping inside the rehab clinic for the first time, for example.

And also the day that he had gotten that fateful call from Matt.

It had been a week since then. Just a week, but it already felt like a lifetime since Tom had poked him awake at the pool, telling him that his phone was ringing insistently with Matt’s face on display. Chris had instantly been annoyed; they’d already gone ahead and flown to Mexico while Matt and Dom had been in Italy, and the singer calling now could only mean that they would be delayed. But when he had finally picked up the call and heard Matt’s broken voice, he had known that it was far more serious than that. He’d been lucky to get the next flight back home to Kelly or otherwise he was sure he would have done something very stupid.  

Everything still felt like a nightmare. Matt had been elusive ever since. They hadn't talked since that afternoon and Chris had been left to pick up the pieces back home. Going to Teignmouth alone was the hardest thing he’d ever done in his whole life. It was selfish, perhaps, but he hoped that he could forget the face of Dom’s mother when he had told her what had happened.

The uncertainty of the future, of how to move on, made every day a struggle. All of it made worse by the fact that they couldn't even make any arrangements nor grieve properly because the authorities hadn't released the body for a funeral yet. He wished he could have Matt by his side, so they could figure out their steps together and help each other cope; instead the suffering dragged on with each call or message from friends asking if there were any news.  

He’d found out later that Matt had been sent back to London, but whether he was indeed in the city now, Chris couldn’t tell. Phone calls had been ignored and no matter how often Chris stood in front of his friends’ door, nobody would ever open. When he had entered with the help of his spare key, he’d found the house completely empty, devoid of any signs that anyone had returned at all. He hadn’t been surprised but secretly pleased to find out that even M was unable to reach the singer; but upon hearing that Matt had missed every single one of his sessions with the therapist another layer of worry was put on top of all the others already piling up.

He was scared shitless; he didn’t know what the singer was up to, if he was coping alright or not coping at all. Knowing him it was most likely the latter. He was devastated and it was easy to guess he’d do everything in his power to destroy himself.

Chris couldn’t lose another friend, not so soon, not ever.

It was with that thought in mind that he sat in the kitchen of his place just at the outskirts of London, his phone in hand and Matt’s phone number on the screen. For the last two hours he’d been staring at the device, contemplating calling again, but afraid of being met with the same result that he’d gotten every single day. It hurt. Every time he ended the call after just too many rings he felt another sting in his heart. And yet, no matter how often he was disappointed, his belief that Matt would pick up the next time never wavered.

Deciding that now was the time, Chris pressed the call button and held his breath.

It rang and he stood from his seat. He strode through the kitchen, taking circles around the table, and counted ring after ring before there was a click. His heart dropped.

“Matt? Are you there?”

At first, there was only silence on the other side and hundreds of different scenarios played in Chris’ head. Maybe it wasn’t Matt on the other end of the line. Or maybe it was, but he was hurt or dying or maybe-

But then there was some rustling and the sound of a throat being cleared.

“ _I’m here, yeah. Hey_.”

Relief flooded him at once before all the questions he’d been holding onto came tumbling out.

“Matt, are you okay? Where are you?”

“ _Look, can this wait until later?_ ” the other man whispered as if he needed to be quiet wherever he was.

“I really need to talk to you, Matt.”

“ _I’m kinda busy right now._ ”

Chris raked a hand through his hair. He was angry. A week without any contact after these terrible things that had happened, and Matt brushed him off like that? It wasn’t fair. He had to try really hard not to make a scene on the phone.  

As calmly as he could, but still strong and firm, he said, “Then make time. Now.”

He could hear Matt click his tongue and was ready to tell him off if he refused him now.

“ _Fine. Pick me up from St. James Road in 40 minutes. There’s a warehouse, one with red fences. Wait around the corner on the A2208. I’ll be there._ ”

Without giving Chris a chance to reply the call ended and Chris was left staring in disbelief at the surface of his fridge, where one of Buster’s drawings was taped next to the household schedule.  

 

 _00:41_  


45 minutes later, he sat in his dark red Jaguar F-Type Coupé sports car just around the corner of the warehouse that Matt had specified, biting at his fingernails in nervousness. No one had been there when he’d arrived and although Chris knew him better, he feared that Matt had stood him up. In hindsight, bad timing or not, Matt had _chosen_ to take his call after all this time, so it was a good sign. But it was possible that he’d changed his mind about seeing him...

He checked his watch and then looked into the wing mirror before he leaned against the window on his side to watch the raindrops fall. They should have been in sunny Mexico at this point, such a contrast to the pitiful London weather. He snorted at his own train of thought. The weather was his smallest problem. Instantly being reminded of the current situation, his heart felt heavy in his chest.

He longed to see his friends. Both of them. How long had it been since they’d all been together?

Matt had felt responsible for everything that had happened in the last month; there was no doubt that, in his head, he’d done this to Dom as well. But Chris knew that he and Dom had failed as well. First, they hadn’t taken their singer’s problems serious, then their poor decisions had almost cost his life. Chris should have trusted his instincts when they had told him that something bad was going to happen in Italy. He’d asked himself over and over again what they could have done differently, wondering if it could have changed anything had he travelled with them, asking himself if he could have prevented any of this from happening. He, too, felt the guilt on his shoulders.

He wouldn’t say it aloud, especially not to Kelly because she’d worry endlessly, but in these last couple of days he’d caught himself wishing for a bottle of alcohol more often than he’d like to admit. He checked his watch again and sighed. Matt wasn’t going to come.

His hand had already moved to the key in the engine when he heard something and he strained his ears.

Gunshots.

They came from behind him somewhere and his first instinct was to turn his head around to find the exact location. Just in that moment, the door on the passenger’s side was yanked open and Chris almost lashed out in panic before he realised it was Matt.

He was wearing all black, head to toe, with only his face visible until he pulled down the hood of his black sweater. The beard he was sporting made it even harder to recognise him on first glance.

“ _Drive!_ ”

Completely dumbstruck Chris followed the order, the engine roaring and tires screeching when the Jaguar took off. Behind them, more gunshots could be heard and a single clink indicated that one of the bullets must have hit the car exterior. In the rearview mirror he could see people standing on the street, their arms raised, but they became smaller and smaller very quickly.

“Jesus Christ, Matt, what the fuck was that? What’s going on? Who are they?”

“Turn right,” Matt simply said, ignoring Chris’ questions. “And left here.”

“What’s going on?” Chris asked again while following the directions. “These guys were shooting at you!”

“Keep going until we get to Ilderton Road, it’s another left there.”

“ _Matt._ ”

“Not now. Let’s get to the hotel first.”

Chris accepted only reluctantly, but it wasn’t like he had any other choice. He should be happy that Matt had even accepted to meet with him. Still, he was dying to ask more questions. The singer had clearly been up to no good in that area, seeing how he was dressed and, well, there had been people fucking _shooting_ at him.

The journey was taken in silence except for Matt occasionally telling Chris which route to take. They ended up in front of a somewhat dodgy looking hotel that Chris couldn’t decipher the name from and parked in the back of it. Marching through the foyer, the bassist couldn’t help but be confused. Matt had stayed in London after all, so why had he decided to take a temporary hideout in Peckham, which wasn’t only at the outskirts of London but also on the riskier side?

Instead of taking the lift they climbed the stairs just as quietly as their drive had been and stopped on the 4th floor to reach a door at the far end of the corridor. Matt pulled out a simple key and put it into the keyhole before he pushed his weight against the door the same moment he turned the knob. Once open, he entered without looking back at Chris. The bassist only hesitated a split second before he followed, but his steps soon slowed when he saw the room.

The floor was littered with rubbish, a stack with – hopefully empty – pizza cartons stood on the table next to Matt’s open laptop. Several bottles were also scattered around the room and Chris’ heart lurched when he spotted labels that were still all too familiar to him. The suitcase to the side was open - only a small pile of clothes was folded, the rest crumpled as if packed in a haste.

And suddenly, the realisation hit him that Matt probably didn’t want to go home because it was empty and cold, and his chest heaved with the effort to breathe through the sudden pain he felt as if he was hearing the news again for the first time.

Meanwhile, Matt had toed off his shoes and emptied his pockets. Alongside small papers and gadgets Chris couldn’t recognise, Matt set a gun on the table. Crouching down to get one of the half empty bottles from underneath, the singer took a big gulp from it. Chris only watched on in silence, noting that Matt’s free hand kept twitching at his side - a nervous tick, no doubt. Too stunned to react immediately, he could only think that he had been right in his worry for his best friend.

“You wanted to talk, so fucking talk,” Matt finally broke the silence with such a harshness that Chris couldn’t suppress a small gasp that softened Matt’s stony features immediately and he added a quiet, “Sorry.”

The bassist shook his head in appeasement and took a deep breath.

“Where have you been, Matt? You didn’t answer your phone and nobody heard anything from you.”

“I was busy.”

“Busy? With what?”

At that, Matt shrugged and looked to the left. Chris followed his gaze and furrowed his brow. There were papers and photos stuck to the wall. He took slow steps towards it and tried to see clearer. There were pictures from places Chris couldn’t ever remember having seen; landscapes, buildings and plazas. A picture of a single, purple flower was taped to the top right. Newspaper articles were scattered across, some pages looked like they had been ripped from a book. Some other scraps had clearly been written by Matt. He took one of those to read, but he couldn’t decipher the angry scrawl. It reminded him a lot of when they were in the studio and Matt noted down an important detail, just to be unable to read it later, thanks to his atrocious handwriting. But this was not about an album. None of it was, he realised. This was a murder board.

“Matt,” he gasped and turned to the singer, who had just taken another swig from his whiskey. “Matt, what are you _doing_?”

“It’s better you don’t know anything,” the singer replied unemotionally. “What do you want, Chris?”

The man in question crossed his arms at the coldness he was met with. “I want to know how you’re doing. Because you disappeared. We were afraid that something happened to you and you were lying dead in some ditch.”

“I’m fine, you can leave and tell that to the others.”

“Have you been to your therapy?”

“You know already that I haven’t.” Matt narrowed his eyes at him. “So why are you even asking?”

“I’m worried about you, isn’t that obvious?” He took a few steps towards Matt, who halted him with a simple hand gesture. “You’re my best friend. I only have you left.”

“You have Kelly and your children. And Tom and the others. You’ll be fine.”

He didn’t know how to explain that he wanted Matt to be there for him and vice versa. It seemed like Matt couldn’t or, more likely, didn’t want to understand him.

“Please come home. You can stay at mine if you want,” he tried instead and only after a short pause he added, “I went to Teignmouth to talk to his mum like you asked, before the police showed up at her door.” He sighed. “We’ve been in touch. She wants to see you so much, Matt.”

That got a reaction out of the singer, albeit not the one Chris had expected. Matt was in front of him in an instant, almost nose to nose, and his eyes flashing with anger. He probably would have hit him had Chris been someone else.

“Because it’s my fault, is that it?” he snapped. “So she can hear it from me how badly I fucked it up?”

Chris shook his head furiously.

“No. No, Matt, that’s not it at all.” He wanted to touch his shoulder, but the other man had already turned around again and walked away, out of reach. “She wants to talk to you about what happened. About him. She needs closure. We all do. You’re… You’re the closest to him she still has.”

Silence followed that statement as Chris didn’t know what to say and Matt didn’t want to speak. It occurred to him that this was probably how it was going to be from now on. He wondered briefly if it would have been the same under different circumstances, like him and Dom missing Matt. They only worked as a team and with one element missing the balance just wasn’t there anymore. He remembered how often Matt and Dom had fought when he had been in rehab, it was probably the closest thing to their current situation. One day, maybe, he’d find the courage to ask Matt about it and find out what they’d gone through because of him.

But for now he turned his attention back to the makeshift murder board in search of a topic that might get Matt to talk to him. At this moment he craved nothing more than conversation with his friend, striving for any fragment of normality in the middle of the nightmare. He rubbed at his face harshly.

“So, what have you found so far?”

He heard Matt sigh in defeat. “Not much, I’m afraid.”

“What about the MI6? Any news from them?”

“The MI6?” A hollow laugh followed. “The MI6 is a bunch of pathetic bureaucrats who waste their time on useless shit and haven’t got a single clue yet.”

Chris had to bite his tongue at that. “And you have?”

“It’s none of your business, Chris. Trust me, you don’t want to know about this or get involved.”

“I do,” he insisted. “Let me help you. Please. We can do this together. I want them to pay as much as you do.”

But Matt only shook his head.

“Why did you pick up the call then? Why did you let me pick you up and bring you here?”

Matt remained quiet, which was all the answer Chris needed.

“You don’t want to be alone, do you?” he said calmly. “You want to keep us all safe, but you’re shit scared of being on your own. You don’t want to be the lone wolf on a vendetta.”

At that, Matt’s eyes seemed to become as cold as ice.

“Is there anything else you want to say? If not, you know where the door is.”

“Don’t be like that. I…” Chris swallowed. He could feel tears prickling at the corner of his eyes. “I need you, Matt. I really need you.”

Matt visibly deflated at that, the miserable state of his best friend not leaving him cold, after all.

“Please, Chris,” he almost whispered, his eyes again much softer. For the first time during their encounter his voice sounded vulnerable, the muscles around his left eye twitching while he blinked rapidly. “Please just go. I can’t… I can’t do that now. Please.”

“Matt…”

“For fuck’s sake, just _go_!”

Chris’ Adam’s apple bobbed. He wanted to say more, wanted to keep talking sense into Matt, but he knew there was no point. He backed off to the door slowly and only turned around to get another glance of his friend when he was already halfway through it. The singer was turned away from him.

“Please just let me know that everything is alright.”

The door clicked shut as Matt’s eyes flared and he flung the bottle with all the rage he could muster. It hit the door with a loud smash, the small rest of whiskey that had still been in it now painting the walls.

“How the fuck can you even _think_ that anything is alright?! You fucking cunt!”

His body heaved with anger and suppressed feelings, the weight of everything coming back to him like a sledgehammer. Matt stumbled backwards slightly, onto the bed, and let himself fall back heavily, his gaze directed straight ahead at the ceiling.

He gulped once, twice, before he whispered much quieter, “Nothing is ever going to be alright again.”

One arm slung over his face, he tried to calm down, but all he could hear was carefree, warm laughter and all he could see was smiling grey eyes. Turning around to make a grab for the bottle of bourbon that lied under the nightstand, he wasn’t sure if that was going to last the rest of the night.  

 


	2. 002 - Red Trail

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, what a massive surprise to see so many people reaching out to us! We were a little overwhelmed to see just how many of you still care about this story and sent us their feedback. We read all of them (both the good and the bad) and we appreciated every single word. From the bottom of our hearts, thank you so much! <3 
> 
> Apologies for the long time to post, but then it wouldn't be an MB-7 story without long periods of waiting in between chapters, haha. As compensation, this one is slightly longer than the first. Matt's been a very busy bee, and several things needed to be set up. 
> 
> We hope you enjoy! :) If you're gonna watch Muse in the cinema this Thursday we wish you a lot of fun! See you in the other side x

_London, United Kingdom_

_Monday, 30th November 2015_

_21:00_

 

“Keys, keys, keys…”

Jacket, lunchbox, a half eaten box of Thai takeaway, umbrella, laptop backpack sliding down his shoulder... Was there anything else that would like to take a go at getting in his way?

Letting out an exasperated sigh, Q wiped his rain sprinkled spectacles with his sleeve before he made another attempt at extracting the key to his flat out of his pocket.

At last successful, he unlocked the door and clumsily stepped inside, immediately kicking off his shoes and then throwing the door shut in anger. As he turned around, he spotted a shadow moving in the living room. A human shaped shadow.

He gulped and tightened the hold on the bulk of items he carried.

“Who’s there?” he called out shakily.

The only reply he got was Curie meowing. After a few moments of hesitation, he lifted a slightly trembling hand to the light switch. He flinched on the spot and all his belongings slipped out of his grasp and dropped to the floor in a heap around him.

Crouched down next to his favourite armchair was MB-7, petting the usually very skittish Curie while Tesla finished lapping up the food in his container next to them.

“MB-7! You scared the hell out of me,” Q breathed out. He bent down to pick the items off the floor while scanning his surroundings. “What are you doing here?”

Nothing seemed out of place - except that there was a Beretta M9 9mm casually resting on the table near the armchair and a drink right next to it that looked suspiciously like the bourbon he kept in the cupboard for when his aunt Louisa visited.

The agent didn’t bother to address Q or answer his question, too distracted with the cats, or so it appeared. It was unlikely he’d dropped by to feed them, though. Still, the quartermaster was mildly annoyed at the prospect of his pets getting overfed, not looking forward to cleaning up their puke later in the evening.

“How much food did you give them? They’re very sensitive. And I very much hope you’re not giving them _that_.” He raised an eyebrow, eyeing the glass of spirits, and was suddenly very apprehensive of the fact that Curie rubbed her nose against the other man’s hand affectionately. “Because if they reach the glass when you’re not looking-“

MB-7 finally seemed to notice him and stood up, grabbing the glass from the table. He advanced on Q who swallowed thickly at the sight of the officer. Dressed in all black, from his boots to his leather jacket, unshaven, with enormous dark bags under his eyes, he looked gaunt and scarily unhealthy. If he hadn’t known any better he would have guessed that MB-7 had aged at least 15 years since the last time they’d spoken.  

The agent stopped right in front of Q and downed the whole drink in one go.

“Problem solved,” he then rasped and leant forward provokingly.

They were now almost nose to nose with MB-7 invading his personal space. Intimidating as he was despite not being taller than Q himself, the quartermaster couldn’t help but feel a surge of pity for the other agent. It had only been a few days since the terrible news from Italy.

“I’m… I’m sorry for…“

MB-7 turned away from him and readily sat on the armchair, crossing a leg over one knee with his hands folded in his lap.

“I need to get into the system to access some files.”

“Well, you can’t. You’re suspended.”

The officer cocked his head, curling his lip with a hint of sarcasm. “Yes. That’s why I’m here.”

“No.” Q shook his head, his eyes wide. “No. No, I can’t help you. And if M knows you’re here-“

“She doesn’t.”

“-and if she _knows_ we’re having this conversation – which by the way, we’re _not_ having – I am in deep trouble.”

“She doesn’t have to know.”

“I can’t lose my job.”

“Lucky for you there's only a job to lose. Others have lost their life for less.”

Q looked away, the weight behind MB-7’s words making him feel guilty when he knew he had no reason to. He rubbed at his eyes tiredly.

“What did you want to check?”

“Not much. Only Franco Sigismondi’s file. The name might ring a bell.”

 _Of course_ , Q rolled his eyes inwardly.

“I’d love to help you, really, I would. But I can’t. You know the case is being worked on and M is supervising it herself, so I’m sure she will have news for you soon. And… I…  I understand why you don’t want to wait without doing anything, you’re a man of action, of course, and I…”

He paused as he busied himself with putting the jacket on the coat hanger and the lunchbox on the kitchenette counter.

“I know why you, more than anyone else, need to solve this case and find who Sigismondi worked for. I understand it’s very personal, but…” He glanced at MB-7 for a moment. The officer was staring intently at Q, but there was no way to tell what was going through his mind. It was disconcerting. “Don’t you think it’s a terrible idea for you to get involved in this?”

He knew as soon as he’d said it that he’d made a terrible mistake. MB-7 stood up and walked up to him, Q unconsciously backing until he was pressed against the wall. A hand was propped on the surface next to his head, trapping him there. The other raised to flash the gun in Q’s line of vision, MB-7 inspecting the metal as if he was debating to use it. The quartermaster only barely suppressed a gulp.

“You are making me waste precious time which could be used to find these people.”

The cold blue eyes locked with his had him rooted to the spot and he squeezed his own eyes shut.

“Okay, _alright_ . I’ll help you, under one condition.” He raised a finger in warning as MB-7 finally stepped away from him, a surge of sudden courage flaring up in him. “Don’t ever break into my flat again.”  
  


 

_01:30_

 

“You really shouldn’t drink so much,” Q said, after watching the other agent swallow another glass of bourbon and lean back on the couch, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands.

Under different circumstances, Q would have been nervous but excited at the chance of partnering up with such a remarkable officer in person. Now, however…

They hadn’t made much progress if any, there was nothing in the files that had made MB-7 content and it was becoming clear that the officer was getting impatient.

“I have Thai takeaway leftovers, if you want some?”

He received no answer as the agent stared into the distance, apparently lost in thought. Only when his left eye twitched and he shook his head he seemed to snap out of it. He heaved himself out of the chair and walked up to the window.

“How do I get into my file?”

“Your own file? You can’t, it’s classified. Only M has access and, before you ask, no one else can read it without her knowledge. I designed the security system myself.”

Judging by the scowl that followed, the agent wasn’t happy with the answer. Q eyed the gun on the table to make sure it was out of reach.

“What about the implant I had? What did you find?”

“I’m afraid I haven’t got any significant news. The firewall is extremely well designed and we can’t crack it without running the risk of completely wiping the data. I’ve got several tools trying to decrypt it, but the process takes time.”

“Time that I don’t have.”

“I’m sorry.”

MB-7 sunk in the couch again in deep thought, his eyes closed.

“Carlo Bonucci,” he said slowly. “Why isn’t there more on him? The only noteworthy reference is that he was the rightful owner to Sigismondi’s Positano _villa_.”

Q typed in the name and clicked on the file that appeared as result, several pages of info appearing alongside a picture of the Italian.

“Deceased. He was Sigismondi’s patient years ago. He moved to England as a teenager, never went back, and none of his next of kin knew he had inherited real estate in Italy. Sigismondi claimed it without changing ownership and without any questions from anyone.” Q started typing and scrolling up the screen again. “Bonucci’s name hasn’t featured in anything that could be considered suspicious. His records are all clean.”

“So are Sigismondi’s and we know he was everything but. Where did he keep all the documents of his criminal activities? Things don’t just vanish.”

“Well, M’s priority is to find his partners. Ones that haven’t been dead for a number of years now.” He glanced aside at Matt over his spectacles. “Here’s a list of suspects, by alphabetical order.”

They continued going through the database, bio after bio of each suspect popping up on the screen with the corresponding ID picture showing in the top right corner. Amongst the individuals were other psychotherapists, Sigismondi’s accountant, friends and others such as his travel agent or manager of one of his restaurants of choice.

“Wait. Stop.” MB-7 suddenly pointed a finger at the screen. “Who is that guy?”

“Oh, he’s uh...” Q loaded the file again, re-adjusting the spectacles on his nose. “Tito Barbalace. He’s an accountant here in London. Not Sigismondi’s accountant, you already know who that was. This man showed up once or twice in his payments, could’ve been for a specific service, so that’s why he is here, but he’s not getting monitored heavily.”

Matt stood up, slipping putting the leather jacket on, as if preparing to leave.

“I want a copy of his file,” he said and slid the Beretta under the jacket.

“Why?”

“I’ve seen him before. Last night, at a warehouse. He’s in it.”

  
  


_London, United Kingdom_

_Tuesday, 1st November 2015_

_20:20_

 

In a small London office not too far from the Shard, all lights were still turned on as a short, blue eyed man went through several folders on top of his desk. He’d done so for hours now, but it seemed like the flood of files would never end. He rubbed at his face harshly before he bent down to open another drawer.

Tito Barbalace was 36 years old and originally from Italy. Born in Rome, he’d successfully finished his university degree in finance and had worked in a prestigious bank for a few years. Only recently did he make the plunge from Rome to London to open up a financial consulting office. His clients were few but wealthy, which helped keeping up his business while still living a comfortable life, jetting between Rome and London whenever he saw fit.

But lately, he’d lost some of those valuable clients and that not only took a bust on his wallet but also led him to the situation he found himself in now.

He retrieved another folder that was so packed that several small papers fell out when he picked it up. Swearing to himself, he bent down to pick up the ID cards, but instead of putting them back into the folder he stuffed them into the suitcase that was open right next to him on the desk.

His eyes fell on the frame that was standing next to the suitcase, a picture of his beautiful wife Adrianna. He touched it with his right thumb and sighed bitterly. The accountant hadn’t seen her in a while now, but he’d soon return to her. And this time, he would stay.

Just when he had neatly stacked another folder in his suitcase there was a knock on the door. Before he could even bark something, a lithe man dressed in black entered his office. He advanced on Tito’s desk, looking around the room as if scanning for something, which immediately put the accountant off. A mix of worry and annoyance burbled in the pit of his stomach.

“Sorry for interrupting your little… cleaning session,” the intruder finally said and shrugged casually.

But his behaviour only irked Tito even more. “Who are you? How did you get in here?”

“Your secretary let me in.”

“I don’t have a secre-“

He sat down at the desk in front of Tito, one leg bent at the knee and resting on the other leg with the ankle. The Italian gazed at him warily.

“Have we met before? Your face seems familiar.”

The other man stared back without flinching. “I get that a lot.”

“What did you say your name was again?”

“I didn’t say it yet. But we’ll get there.” The other man smiled. “I believe we have a friend in common, Tito.”

“Oh?”

“Or used to. He passed away, sadly. Franco Sigismondi?”

Matt could see the exact moment when Tito’s demeanour changed from intrigued to alarmed. He tensed up and his eyes widened, his adam’s apple bobbing up and down.

The Italian leaned back in his chair, attempting to look nonchalant... until he suddenly shot up from his seat and dashed towards the door of the office. But Matt was prepared. His own chair fell backwards as he followed without missing a beat and lunged across the office in pursuit. He grabbed him by the back of his collar just as he reached the door and spun him around, the sheer force of the motion sending the accountant toppling onto the carpet.

Matt was at his side before he had time to raise his head and aimed a hard kick at his stomach, Tito folding over and grunting in pain. Clutching him by the shoulders, the agent dragged him up and towards the desk, where he held him by the hair and shoved his face on the desktop once, twice.

“Stop, _stop_!” the Italian shouted in a nasal voice, his upper lip and nose bruised and smeared with blood.

“Then start talking, Tito,” Matt hissed in his ear, bending his head back painfully. “I have all night to hear you.”

The accountant spat a gob of blood at the floor. “You think you scare me? You have no idea what you are dealing with!”

“Which is why you’re going to be a good boy and help me. If you behave-” he readjusted his grip on him as the other man jerked in his arms in a futile attempt to free himself. “If you behave, I’ll get the MI6 to protect you.”

“The MI6?”

“If not, I’ll make you tell me what I want anyway and then you die. Really. Fucking. Slowly.”

“You can’t make me.”

Matt smashed Tito’s face against the desk again, unmoved by the cry of pain that followed a crack. Probably from his nose. “You think I don’t know what you are, you cowardly piece of shit? Believe me, I have very little patience and nothing to lose.”

“They’ll kill me,” the accountant gasped.

“I’ll kill you first if you don’t tell me what I want. So...”

Matt shoved him on the seat and pulled out the gun from the back of his belt, placing the barrel against the other man’s temple. The Italian looked a mix of furious, breathing harshly through the broken, bloodied nose, and scared by the wild look in his eyes.

“I will ask this only once: who do you work for?”

“I work for whoever pays more, I do what I’m told and I don’t ask questions,” Tito spat.

“So you don’t know what people like Sigismondi do? Such as using innocent people for experiments? Pawns for their own purposes which they dispose of when they’re no longer useful? Do you know that this is what you’ve been working for?”

“Like I give a shit about any of that. I do my job and get my payment!”

Matt narrowed his eyes at him in disgust.

“Did you know Sigismondi was also disposed of when he stopped being useful?” He watched as the other man blanched at the information, a small bead of sweat running down the side of his face. It was obvious he hadn’t been aware of the circumstances of his death. “They’ll come after you now.”

“I don’t know anything, I swear.” Tito closed his eyes in distress. “I only did his accounting. He was a _strampalato_ , had some transactions that had to be kept secret for fuck knows what reason. He always paid in cash and that’s it.”

“Fucking Tito who asks no questions and claims not to know anything, but runs at the mere mention of Sigismondi’s name. What’s wrong with this picture, pray tell?”

“It was some dodgy shit, it’s all I know, some organisation he worked for. I don’t know what it was.”

“What is the name of this organisation?”

Matt only got a shrug and a shake of head in reply. He eyed him for a moment, but before he could question him further, a sudden throbbing on the side of his head hit him so strongly that his eyes squeezed shut of their own accord. He raised the hand he was holding the gun with to press against his own temple, trying to block out the rush of blood and the all too familiar voice in his ears. Then it was gone just as quickly.

“I want all records, files and copies of everything you’ve ever done for him,” he rasped out of breath.

“There’s nothing, I never kept any of our correspondence so nothing could be traced back to this place.”

“Then what use are you to me, Tito?” Matt sighed, gun back in place against the other man’s temple. When he pulled the safety of the gun, Tito closed his eyes, letting out a small moan. “You’re going to suffer and die a painful death to protect someone who _is_ already dead and whose organisation would kill you anyway without sparing you a second thought. How fucking stupid is that?” He shook his head and tutted. “I imagined you were a smart bloke, but I obviously misjudged you. Get up.”

The accountant whimpered, “What are you going to do with me?”

A cruel smile formed on Matt’s lips at the hopeful tone of the other man’s voice.

“You gave me nothing in exchange for your survival,” he replied and bent down so they’d be face to face. “You know what I’m gonna do? I’m going to tie you to this chair and blow a fucking hole into your body. I’ll watch you bleed slowly and when I decide that you’ve bled enough I’ll set you and the whole fucking building on fire. How does that sound?”

“No, _no_! You fucking psycho!” Tito screeched and grabbed onto the chair’s arms. “You can’t do that!”

Grabbing the Italian by the hair, Matt forced him up before he pushed him to the floor with a kick to his back.

“They’ll go after you! They’ll know what you’ve done and they’ll go after you and kill you!”

Matt crouched down and shoved the gun under his chin, forcing his head up.

“Who said I give a shit about being killed?

Stepping back, Matt took a silencer from inside his leather jacket, Tito shaking his head frantically from where he lay, watching as the other man took his time to attach it to the gun with precise and confident movements. The deliberate action had the desired effect.

“ _Amico mio_ , listen, I’m sure we can get to some agreement.”

Matt raised the gun and aimed it at him without flinching, his face a cold mask.

“ _Arrivederci_ , Tito.”

“Wait, _wait_!”

The Italian closed his eyes, steeling himself for the shot with his arms raised in front of his face. But the shot didn’t come and he opened one eye warily.

“I’ll give you what you want,” he whispered. “It’s all I have, I swear.”

“Go on,” Matt prompted, but the arm holding the gun didn’t waver.

Tito exhaled shakily, trying to regain some of his composure, but the words still tumbled out of his mouth as if through an open dam.

“I have a safe in Rome. In a bank. But it’s his. We always went together, but I was to give him privacy, so I don’t know what he keeps there. Nobody has come to collect the key yet.”

“Where is it?”

He pointed towards his desk, asking permission to move with a nod. Matt motioned with the gun and he raised himself up to his knees, crawling to the sturdy piece of furniture. He swallowed when he realised the other man followed him and had the gun pressed against the back of his skull.

“I have a false bottom in this d-drawer,” Tito stuttered. “To ensure my clients’ best interests.”

“How very professional of you.”

His hands trembled as he slowly revealed the secret compartment under Matt’s scrutiny. Attached to the false bottom were a few document folders as well as some velvet pouches. He emptied one of them on the desktop.

“It’s this one.”

Matt lowered the gun, allowing the shady accountant to roll aside while he picked up the item and examined it between his gloved fingers. It was an ordinary key with a small ‘ _220_ ’ engraved on it, no doubt the vault number.

As he inspected it closely, his attention focused on the small item, Tito saw his chance. The Italian had slowly retreated and was now sneaking behind a chair as inconspicuous as he could. But as soon as he realised that Matt had caught up all caution was thrown to the wind and he bolted.  

“Help!”

He tried to use the chair as cover while he rushed to the front door, but he didn’t even make it to the handle; The sound of a muffled gunshot was followed by the heavy thud of a body on the floor and the office fell silent again.

Matt put the gun back in his belt and quickly thumbed through the folders the accountant kept in his possession. Then he checked the suitcase on the table, pulling out several fake IDs. Considering nothing else worthy of his time, he slid the key in one of his pockets and left the office, stepping over the corpse on the floor.

The bullet in the back of Tito’s head would leave no doubt about cause of death to whoever would find him.

  
  


_Rome, Italy_

_Thursday, 3rd December 2015_

_09:00_

Matt adjusted the Ray Bans on top of his nose as he walked across the busy, loud _Viale America_ towards the tall glass tower on the other side.

It’d been quite a few years since he’d last set foot in the financial district of Rome, even more since Muse had played at the Palalomalottica arena only a few minutes away. The memory should have been heartwarming, but it made him feel sick to his stomach instead.

It seemed like another life, playing and travelling the world with Muse. A life he couldn’t tell now if he had ever been a part of at all. Maybe it had been nothing but a dream which he had been rudely awakened from.

He shoved those thoughts aside instantly before they overwhelmed him, determined to push through his mission first. He didn’t know what would await him at the end. Except that right now, this purpose was what kept him awake, kept him alive. And he would not settle, would not allow himself to focus on anything else but reaching this goal.

He glanced at his reflection in the glass before entering the _Intesa Sanpaolo_ bank. He rubbed over his chin and cheeks and opened the doors leading inside. His now clean shaven look, coupled with the long coat over a grey suit and black shirt open at the collar, gave him an appearance he hoped matched somewhat the one of Tito Barbalace’s.

Once he knew what to look for, it had been extremely easy to identify the account and the branch in Rome where the vault which the Italian accountant had told him about was located. It wouldn’t perhaps be so easy to impersonate him, though. Despite their similar build, eye colour and height, there was always the matter of being recognised: either as not the client with that name who visited the branch or, worse, as the lead singer of British rock band Muse. What he was doing was extremely risky, but he had nothing to lose and this was his best shot.

He explained the purpose of his visit to the bank employee who greeted him in a polite and professional manner before he provided his fake ID. The young woman went by the usual procedures without raising any questions or double checking the picture which had been expertly changed. She brought the form with the log of previous visits (which Matt quickly scanned to realise the visits had either had long months in between or only a few days), which he signed and handed back with a courteous smile.

Always taking care to hide his face from the CCTV cameras, he allowed himself to be led to a small hall with a few sofas just outside the main public area. After ten minutes, the click of heels announced a woman’s arrival, who greeted him loudly.

“ _Buongiorno! Come sta, Signor Barbalace?_ ”

He turned around to whom he promptly identified as the branch manager, a slender, flashy brunette in a tight pink suit and stiletto heels, and observed as her outstretched hand in his direction lowered slightly and the smile faltered. She glanced around for a moment before Matt took her hand for a handshake with his most charming smile.

“ _Signora Sozzani. Molto bene, grazie, e Lei?_ ”

At this point, there was nothing he could do but to keep the façade. She smiled back reflexively, but there was doubt in her posture. It was obvious she recognised Tito Barbalace on sight and was confused. Nevertheless, she extended her hand to the hallway ahead and led him down a flight of stairs. The main door to the vaults was already open, the combination of his key and her password would now open Sigismondi’s personal vault inside. He located the number 220 easily, a medium sized box, and gave her the key, allowing her to step forwards.

Before she had the chance to insert the code, however, he pressed against her from behind, keeping his voice low.

“Don’t try anything and don’t make me hurt you. If you insert the security code that alerts the police I will know, just do everything as normal. _Mi capisce_?”

The manager nodded rapidly without a word. She entered the code at the same time he turned the key; the little click signalled success. She made to walk out, but he stopped her by grabbing her wrist. Her pulse was racing.

“Grab that chair, sit over there with your back turned.”

She did as she was told in complete silence. Matt opened the vault and pulled the metal box out to place it on the table in the centre of the room. He had to be quick before someone noticed the absence of the branch’s manager.

There wasn’t much inside the metal box. Matt immediately took note of the two external disks, suddenly clear to him where all the material from the experiments had vanished to. There were also a couple of credit cards and old passports, all with Sigismondi’s picture but not all with his name, and a small envelope which contained Kazakhstani Tenge, the currency of the country. But what intrigued him the most was an object that he couldn’t promptly identify; it looked like a PDA, but the screen was smaller, with three buttons below it, and it had a narrower handle at the bottom.

He turned the device in his hand. Engraved on the back was a flower, just like the one on the dog tag that had been found after the explosion in Positano. A desert flower, he had discovered in the meanwhile. He narrowed his eyes in thought and his heart beat faster. Despite never having seen such item, he knew exactly what it was for.

He pocketed the disks and the device, but didn’t bother to pack the rest; they’d end up in the hands of the MI6.

“I’m going to leave now,” he informed the Italian manager. “Count to 100 and then you can leave and call the police.”

Quickly walking up the stairs two steps at once, Matt almost bumped into another employee on the way out. He excused himself to the bewildered young man and cursed under his breath as he put his Ray Bans on again; they’d know something was wrong very soon. He strode across the branch with his head down and made his way to the road nearby where he’d parked his rented Alfa Romeo.

Tires screeching as he drove out of the Europa district, he looked through the rear view mirror and spotted a blue _Polizia di Stato_ car speeding in the opposite direction.

He’d be long gone by the time they got there.

  


 

_20:13_

 

“ _Wake up,_ _sleeping beauty…”_

Matt’s eyes snapped open. Panting as if he’d run a mile, there was a beat of silence before he cautiously looked to the left, searching for the person whose tender voice had woken him up from his excruciating nightmare.

Dom was lying in bed next to him on his side, smiling at him. The singer smiled back and extended a hand to touch his cheek. But before it could even reach him Matt blinked, and the image in front of him was gone, leaving him as alone as he’d been for so many days.

Rolling to the other side, he propped himself on his elbows and swallowed heavily, taking several deep breaths. One hand lifted to rub at his eyes before it wiped at his face harshly. He was soaked in sweat.

When he finally sat up, it was to the confirmation that he was still where he’d been before he’d passed out not too long ago, on the hard mattress of a bed in a seedy hotel room near Termini Railway station.

Pressing his fist hard against his forehead, Matt leant over and reached for the bottle with his other hand. His head throbbed when he moved. Holding the bottle against the light to see how much liquid was still left, he found it almost empty.

He sat against the headboard with effort and took the bottle to his lips, his insides burning as he emptied it in one long swig. Tossing the bottle to the floor unceremoniously, he folded over with a grimace and a hand over his stomach. Nausea burbled as a small voice in the back of his mind wondered what Dom would think if he saw him like that. Would he still be at his side, watching, if he dared looking?

He shook his head rapidly and squeezed his eyes shut, the inside of his mouth turning into sawdust as he reminded himself that Dom Howard wasn’t and never would be again. But despite himself, he still turned his head to the side. The other half of the bed was empty.

He broke into a cold sweat almost immediately and his stomach spasmed. He gagged. His mouth was filling with saliva and Matt swallowed repeatedly as he weakly dragged himself out of bed and to the bathroom. There was barely time to drop to his knees next to the toilet before he retched again and splattered the white porcelain with the meagre contents of his stomach.

Leaning his head against the cold tile when he was finished, he wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand before he wiped at his eyes as well. This was far from being the first time he’d thrown up in the past few days. The alcohol didn’t help to alleviate the pain anymore, but at least it was good to knock himself out without too much thought.

Not being conscious meant there was no chance for him to feel or to think or to remember. Also not to see or hear people that weren’t there anymore. He wasn’t exactly sure if the nightmare this time had been his dream or waking up to that soft voice and the two of them sharing the same bed, only to be hit with the crushing reality that _he_ wasn’t real.

Maybe he needed more alcohol. Or something significantly stronger. However, he had to force himself not to overdo it, to keep himself halfway functional if he wanted to have any chance at seeing the end of his journey.

Propping himself against the wall, he pushed himself off the floor and rinsed his mouth at the sink. Pointedly avoiding the mirror, he returned to the room and snatched the tablet of pills from the nightstand. He popped two with a glass of water and massaged his temples, trying to ease the persistent headache away. He’d never really managed to get rid of it completely.

Still over two hours before he’d have to board a train to Fiumicino Airport where he’d jump on a jet to his next destination outside of the country. Having to kill time would prove to be just as difficult as it had been the day before. And every other day before. 

But at least he’d made substantial progress since his arrival in Rome.

Moving around to sit on the floor next to his backpack, Matt took off the necklace with the dog tag that he kept underneath his shirt and inspected it again as if he hadn’t done it every single day since he’d gotten it.

The visit to the vault that morning had proven to be an important step in coming closer to his goal. Among all the useful information he had collected, the most valuable was probably what he’d gotten from the small device that he’d picked up.

He took the necklace and hovered the device over the small piece of metal and the screen came to life, just as it had when Matt had pressed the tag to it with shaking hands for the first time, frantic to see if his theory had been correct.

Now, hours later, he studied the information that the scanner was providing for the umpteenth time, eyes flying over the necklace’s owner’s name, his birthday, nationality, height, rank and code number. Several other codes and abbreviations were listed, all of them unfamiliar to Matt, except for one thing almost at the bottom of the list: there was a long number that was only divided by a comma in the middle. It stood for latitude and altitude. A location.

It pinpointed a position in Kazakhstan, the relevance of this fact supported by the currency in Sigismondi’s vault and telling Matt he was on the right track. But what was even more intriguing was the fact that the region was seemingly inhabited, nothing more than a snowy desert. There had been a military base during the Cold War, but it was supposed to have been dismantled years ago.

He put the device down and chained the necklace back around his neck before he pulled a small package from next to his unopened laptop. The external disks he’d taken from Sigismondi were already wrapped up in paper and cardboard. Unable to retrieve any information from them, he had decided to mail them anonymously to M. Q would have an easier time decrypting them.

He collected his things and stuffed them all in the backpack. He still had time until he was supposed to be at the airport, but he had no reason to stay any longer.  

There was only one thing left to do before checking out. He pulled out an item from inside a pocket of his backpack and stared at it for a moment. His passport was entirely alien to him; his name felt foreign to him and so did his picture. It was all part of something that didn’t exist anymore, somehow.

It landed in the metal garbage bin next to him alongside other papers he’d thrown in there earlier before a match was lit to set the pile on fire. He watched the flames in silence, the irony of them destroying his identity not passing him by.

He got up as soon as there was nothing but a black pile of ash left and put on his coat. He made sure that he hadn’t forgotten anything that would give away he’d been here in the first place and then turned off the lights, closing the door behind himself without looking back.

Matt wasn’t sure what he’d find in the camouflaged facilities in Kazakhstan, but his gut feeling told him that he was close to what he was looking for: he’d find the people behind this organisation who’d orchestrated the attack on M and he’d bring their objectives to an end.

But most of all, he’d make them pay for what they’d done to Dom.

And if he didn’t succeed, then he’d die trying.

 


	3. 003 - Three Roads

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, hope you're all enjoying your summer! Now with added Wobelldom courtesy of the Something Human video. Holy shit, someone has been reading museslash! We bow to whoever came up with the concept for that *bows*
> 
> Next chapter answers a couple of questions for those of you who've been wondering... Not sure if we can call it a favourite, but we're quite happy with how this one turned out and hope you enjoy it too xx

_???_

_???_

_???_

 

 

 _Drip_ , _drip_ , _drip_ , _drip_.

The broken pipe in the far corner of his little cell kept leaking small droplets of water onto the floor. Sooner or later he’d have to sit in a puddle, he was sure of that. He’d started counting the droplets to pass the time, but every time he got to a significant number his concentration got interrupted, mainly by what was going on around him.

It was hard to cut out the other sounds; of mutters and whispers in languages he didn’t understand, of grown men crying and weeping openly, of people screaming and shouting...

Dom squeezed his eyes shut.

It didn’t take a genius to know that he was in big trouble. He had no recollection of how he’d gotten here, but he could remember that he and Matt had been attacked in the _villa_ in Italy. He’d woken up in a dark cell alone, with no idea where he was or what had happened to Matt, whether he was dead or somewhere in this complex.

Both possibilities made him feel sick; it was obvious that these were the people responsible for the chip on Matt’s neck and his brainwashing.

He’d been taken to experiments himself, which ranged from physical examinations to extreme conditional trials and downright torture. Every time he returned he checked his body for any signs of implementations or other forms of modification. So far, he’d only come out with bruises and superficial wounds, or at least he thought he had. Of course they might have changed his memory just like they had done with Matt, there was no guarantee he was right or that what he was seeing was real. But going down his mental checklist of things he’d seen in his boyfriend gave him a negative result so far.

“What are you thinking about, son?”

He turned to the left to see the cell opposite his. An old, haggard man was sitting on his pallet, his attention turned to the drummer.

Dom shrugged sheepishly in reply and played with the sleeve of his jumpsuit.

“Just things. People. This place... Just things, really.”

The older man - Simon was his name, Dom recalled - nodded before he stepped up to sit next to the bars of his cell, closer to Dom’s.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He shrugged again and sighed. There was no point in talking about it. They were both aware of what it meant to be here; they’d either die during one of the experiments or they were taken and never returned. Whether they were killed or moved to another location nobody knew and Dom had kept his suspicions to himself: that they were to be turned into mindless puppets to execute whichever orders they were given, just like Matt.

Thoughts constantly swirled in his head to figure out how to escape or how to negotiate a release. His mind ran through film and book plots, looking for an idea to avoid his fate; wondering what Matt would do... But he couldn’t focus on anything for long enough to formulate a semblance of a plan. His brain was too slow and too alert at the same time.

Out of control.

Every sound echoing in that hole made him tense and anxious. Sometimes, a particularly loud click or the smallest of clatters would cause a mix of hope and trepidation in the pit of his stomach; either he would be saved or they would come back to take him for yet another experiment.  
  
He was stuck in an endless loop that slowly but surely drove him insane, with no way out. But the worst thing about it was the fact that he was very much aware of it; he could feel himself starting to slip and gradually lose his grasp on reality.  
  
He’d cower in the corner of his cell and try to cling to more positive thoughts, lost in blurry images of freedom and memories of the past, but the life of comfort he’d once enjoyed seemed a utopia and once or twice he had found himself questioning whether it had been real at all. Paranoia was starting to lodge itself deep in his brain. He’d often avoid the small portions of food they were given until he couldn’t cope with the hunger anymore, simply because he feared it was poisoned. Sleep had already become a foreign concept, but even during the few intervals where he managed to close his eyes it was impossible to shut off his mind and rest when there was always the possibility that someone could come or something could happen. There had been days when Dom had jerked awake and was convinced someone was watching him. He was always alone when that happened, but at this point he wasn’t sure if he was glad about it or not. The lack of human contact, coupled with the coldness, made everything ten times worse.    
  
Talking about the situation was indeed pointless, but it was the only thing that Dom had left. It kept him rooted and feel a bit more human.

Simon seemed to be the only one in his vicinity that was able to speak English, so Dom had taken to him almost immediately. The man had been scarce on details about his personal life; Dom could only guess that he must have been a religious figure of sorts before he had been brought here. Simon couldn’t tell him how long he’d been in his place already – none of them could, days and nights were one homogenous mass – but it was clear that he’d been one of the prisoners who’d been here the longest for whatever reason.

“What's all of this for, why are they keeping us here?”

“That is what all of us have been asking ourselves since we were taken.” He continued observing Dom. “And yet I feel that today you are talking about something else.”

“Ever since I got here I’ve had this hope that it wouldn’t last, that someone,” _Matt_ , he nearly said, “would come for me or that this was only a terrible nightmare… But I’ve lost count of the time and nothing changes and I’m just…” He buried his hands in his hair helplessly.

“Now is not the time to question your beliefs, my son, but to get comfort from them.”

He glanced over at the man’s interlaced fingers on his lap in prayer and then back at him.

“Is that what you tell yourself?”

“ _You do not realise now what I am doing, but later you will understand._ John 13:7.” Simon smiled. “Nothing is without reason.”

Dom could think of a million points to raise in reply to that, but it wasn’t a discussion he wished to engage in at the moment.

“I’m not a very spiritual person, I guess.”

“And yet you just told me you had faith someone would come and rescue you.”

“That’s different, isn’t it?”

“Is it really? God moves in mysterious ways, Dominic. Nothing is without reason, not even you being here. And perhaps… He put you in this darkness so you could help to spread the light.”

“I don’t think-”

Their conversation was interrupted by two guards entering the area. Dom’s cell was unlocked and he didn’t even have the chance to get up from his position. He was grabbed at the shoulders and pushed against the wall, a hood put over his head and his hands cuffed behind his back. Next thing he knew, he was being thrown against another wall face first, stumbling through the narrow opening that was the door to his cell. He was picked up again and taken away without any resistance from him.

When the hood was lifted he was in a bright examination room, one he’d been to a couple of times already. Even though he knew there was no point, he struggled when the guards unlocked the handcuffs and pushed him to the stretcher in the middle of the room.

“Let me go! Let me fucking go!”

Just as expected they were stronger and he was pushed down on his back, his arms forced straight to be tied down in the crucifix position with the help of metal bands. His legs received the same treatment. A rubber band was used for his head, the material running over his forehead and preventing him from moving around. He was already covered in sweat and, just like every other time before, he couldn’t control the panic consuming him no matter how hard he tried.

There was a flurry of people working around him, talking in what sounded like Russian. Someone right next to his head whispered something he couldn’t understand in his ear before the pinch of a needle registered in his brain. The needle pierced his left arm deeper and he gritted his teeth, unable to push it out as it remained there, working as an infusion.

He could feel the effects of the chemicals being pumped into his system almost instantly, his vision beginning to swim and blur until all he could see were lines and flecks, much like a smudged painting drawn with watercolours. A warmth spread through his body like nothing he’d ever felt before. It was soothing after all the terrible things he’d gone through so far, and he groaned in satisfaction, for a moment forgetting where he was and who he was with.

Just as quickly that feeling changed as something much thicker entered his veins, his eyes going wide before a strangled choke escaped his throat. He screamed.

Around Dom, the individuals in white lab coats continued their work unperturbed, taking notes of his reactions and typing them down on the keyboard next to their patient. A smaller man checked one of the three bags hanging next to Dom’s head before changing something on the left one’s outlet. Dom’s shouts subsequently turned quieter until one pitiful rasp left his mouth. The head scientist nodded and released another chemical.

They repeated the process from painful to soothing for several cycles until the head scientist shouted something and everyone stopped.

The tension left Dom’s body as the pain vanished and he coughed, his lungs still burning as if they were on fire from screaming himself raw.

He’d gone through a couple of these pain experiments, but none had ever been this bad. This time it actually felt like his body was being ripped apart and sewn together before it was ripped apart again. The small intervals of peace and warmth in between were slowly driving him mad and he was sure that was the point of the whole procedure.

Maybe this was it now. Maybe this was the final experiment where he'd break and lose his mind, enabling them to do with him whatever it was they wanted to do. Maybe they’d finally kill him.

The rubber band around his head was loosened and his head lolled to the side weakly. He couldn’t see anything, only silhouettes and small splashes of colour, but it didn’t really matter to him.

There were noises next to him now and he only realised then that his ears felt like they were stuffed with cotton wool. Dom furrowed his brows and tried to strain his hearing when he recognised the sound as voices. They were speaking English.

“How well is he doing?”

It was difficult to concentrate on what was being said. At this point he couldn’t even say if the speaker was male or female or if the accent was British or from another country.

“Quite well. We’ve finished all testings and he’s ready to be converted.”

“What’s his status?”

“Results show that his resistance level is four. We suggest procedure B.”

He couldn’t understand what they said afterwards, close to passing out, but he was aware of someone stepping closer to him. All he could see were shadows.

“He looks better than I had expected.“ A hum of approval followed. “Biological age doesn't lie, he's in very good shape for his age. Perfect.”

“Shall we prepare him for you?"  
  
"No. No, this one is more suited for my brother," they replied. "Get him ready to be transported with the next shipment. Make sure he arrives in time for his birthday.”

“Of course.”

There were steps followed by blissful silence, it seemed that they were gone. Was it over? But then he felt someone tapping one of the bags above his head and he felt the now all to familiar burn flooding his veins again.

“No, please. _Please_. No more.”

But nobody paid attention to his gibberish plea. Another needle was stuck in his left arm and the next aggressive chemical entered his body, shooting through his bloodstream in record time.

The last thing Dom recalled was screaming in agony before he drifted off into sweet nothingness.

  


 

_London, United Kingdom_

_Friday, 4th December 2015_

_15:51_

 

The leash rattled with every step the little puppy took. Excitedly, he waddled on the pavement, looking around in curiosity. When he spotted something that interested him in particular he took off, almost falling over his little paws when he gained speed. His nose almost bumped against his target – a tree – when he finally reached it and he yapped in excitement. Rubbing his chin against the cold bark, he shuddered and finally sneezed. His owner at the other end of the leash chuckled in amusement.

“Easy there, boy,” Chris said softly. “Don’t get frozen to the tree.”

The little Samoyed pup barked as if in reply and Chris laughed again, shaking his head.

Taking a walk with his family’s furry member was surprisingly one of the few things that helped him take his mind off things. Everything else at home tormented him with memories. But being here, outside with his dog, felt oddly freeing. His responsibility lied in taking care of the pup and nothing else.

He pulled the leash a bit to signal that they were moving and the dog followed the order, already having found something new to focus on.

It was still in the afternoon, but the sky was as dark as if it was already late in the evening. Winters in Europe could be quite depressing with the low temperatures and constant rain, and Chris guessed that it also pressed down on his mood. Maybe he should ask Kelly to go somewhere with him, at least for a while, far away from the sad atmosphere and the past.

The dog was still jumping around, playing with a piece of branch he’d found on the sidewalk. He picked it up clumsily and brought it to his master as if the pup already knew what to do with it.

Chris picked it up with a smile. “Come on, Kevin. Do your business, it’s getting really fucking chilly here.”

But the pup was only interested in the piece of wood, so Chris threw it lightly, Kevin taking off the couple of steps to catch it.

He was so concentrated on his furry partner that Chris almost didn’t realise the black car pulling up to him. His muscles tensed in discomfort, but he tried to seem oblivious. If there was danger looming, then he’d defend himself and his dog.

Indeed, a man in a suit stepped up to him, eyeing him up and down.

“Mr. Wolstenholme,” the man said. It wasn’t a question.

Chris only nodded, but almost jumped when the suit’s hand reached into his jacket. He’d expected a weapon of sorts, but it was just papers.

“Your presence is requested by the head of the Secret Service. If you may get into the car, please.”

The door at the back opened and the agent pointed at it. Too dumbstruck, Chris scooped up the dog and shuffled inside.

To his surprise, M was sitting at the other end of the backseat, looking outside with a stony face and not acknowledging him. A bad feeling settled in the pit of his stomach; her wanting to talk to him personally and so urgently could only mean one thing.

The door closed and the car got into motion. And yet, M didn’t say a word, which didn’t alleviate Chris’ nervousness at all. He wanted to burst and outright demand for her to tell him what she wanted, but on the other hand he was shit scared of what she would have to say. If his gut instinct was once again right, it would mean that he’d have to walk the world without his two best friends, a possibility he wasn’t yet ready to face. In the meanwhile, the little fluffball in his lap moved his head excitedly whenever they passed the street lights.

“Mr. Wolstenholme,” M finally started and Chris wanted to be sick. “I am sorry to disturb your afternoon like that, especially so shortly after your birthday, but there are important matters to talk about.”

“I... I understand.”

She finally turned to him, her eyes boring into his very core. “I need to know where Matthew is, Mr. Wolstenholme.”

He stumped until he could feel the relief flooding him. Matt was still alive.

“I don’t know,” he answered truthfully.

“He’s vanished and it’s of high importance to know where he is.”

“I told you, I don’t know,” Chris insisted. “I’ve been on my own since Italy. Had to talk to people and take care of things on my own. And no, before you ask, I haven’t told anyone about what… about what led to it.”

She nodded in approval, but Chris didn’t give a fuck. To hell with that. He would have told the truth to everyone if he’d been strong enough to do so. He’d really wanted to tell Dom’s mum that it hadn’t been a freak accident, that her son hadn’t died just by chance. But he couldn’t.

“Mr. Wolstenholme, I don’t think I have to tell you that you’re going to be in trouble if we find out that you’re hiding him.” Her voice was calm, but the threat was loud and clear.

“I don’t know where he is, for god’s sake! How many times do I have to tell you? I wish I knew, but…” He wanted to say more, that he wished he could just talk to him, go back to how things used to be. But that wasn’t possible. “What’s this about anyway? Has he done something bad?”

“One of the individuals we had under investigation was found in his office with a bullet in his head. A reported shooting in a warehouse the past weekend resulted in two victims.” M paused. “The bullets are from the same gun.”

Silence followed the statement, M giving Chris time to let that sink in. She knew that he understood the implication. The bassist looked down at his dog that was still busy following the different lights outside in excitement. Scratching Kevin’s ears, he breathed out.

“You haven’t seen him? At all?”

“Only once,” Chris admitted and closed his eyes for a short moment. It felt like betraying Matt. “A couple of days ago. He didn’t talk much, said he was working on something. But he didn’t tell me on what.”

“You and I both know what he is trying to do. At this moment, he is nothing but a hazard to himself and those around him.” She paused. “We've restricted his movements and blocked his accounts, but, unfortunately, we were too late and he's presumably out of the country by now. He could be anywhere.”

The car stopped at another red light and Chris looked outside, at a complete loss.

“Mr. Wolstenholme, there is another thing you need to know.”

He looked at her with tired eyes. Honestly, how much worse could it become? He was exhausted by everything that was beating him down.

“We have reasons to believe that Mr. Howard might, in fact, still be alive.”

“W-What?” His whole world suddenly tilted. He must have misheard her. “What did you just say?”

“DNA on the body that was found inside the _villa_ revealed that the victim was an ex-KGB agent named Ivan Aleksandrovich Andropov. There has been no other human particle, so we’re led to believe that he was taken to an unknown location. For what reason, we do not know as of yet.”

“You’re saying he’s alive?” Chris asked again, the butterflies in his stomach almost making him sick. “He’s alive and somewhere?”

“We cannot say this for certain, but the possibility is there.” She didn’t react when Chris’ face fell at her words. “He might have been taken to undergo the same treatment as Matthew. We’re still at the beginning of that particular investigation.”

“But he could be alive.”

“Yes. He could be.”

“And Matt knows?”

“We don’t know what Matthew knows or doesn’t know. I’m afraid he doesn’t.” Her voice seemed to soften as she turned her gaze to the window for a moment before she faced Chris again with the same intensity as before. “And because of that, we need to find him and Mr. Howard as soon as possible.”

The car stopped in the same spot that it had when they had picked up Chris and the same agent opened the door for him as well. He looked at M, but the head of the Secret Service didn’t spare him another glance. Wordlessly, he climbed outside, Kevin immediately running to the small tree next to them as if it was the first time he was seeing it.

“Make sure to inform me as soon as Matthew contacts you,” M called to him. “If you want to be his accomplice, you will also be treated as one.”

With that, the door was closed and the car took off, Chris not even having the chance to ask her to inform him as soon as she knew more.

With unsteady legs he leaned against the tree and raked a hand through his hair, his body shaking with the information he’d just received. All of sudden, he started laughing, the dog next to him barking along before he stopped just as quickly and breathed out heavily.

“Don’t do anything stupid, Matt,” he whispered into the cold December air. “Come back home safely… And bring him with you.”

 

 

 

_???, Kazakhstan_

_Sunday, 6_ _th_ _December 2015_

_08:58_

 

Day three in Kazakhstan.

Matt threw his backpack onto the jeep’s front seat and adjusted the beanie on his head, looking up at the sky. The sun had just risen and he was ready to leave the village where he’d stayed the night after driving roughly 500km the day before. The airfield where he’d managed to get clearance for landing without raising suspicions - thanks to a nice sum of money being passed under the table - was still far from his intended destination. The polar desert roads, covered in freshly fallen snow, meant travelling for longer and he could use more daylight hours. Even so, he estimated he’d reach the area within the next few hours.

What he would encounter once he arrived he didn’t know. He was sure that he’d find more on this unnamed organisation there. Whether it was one of their headquarters, however, he didn’t know and neither did he know if one of their leaders would be there. Even if it was just another stop in his journey, he was determined not to leave without names. He was going to end it and destroy every single one of their bases if he had to. He owed it to _him_ and everyone else who’d suffered under their hands.

The dog tag jingled underneath his sweater as he checked his gun again to make sure it was loaded before he placed it on the seat next to the backpack. Acquiring extra ammunition and some more equipment had proven to be of little difficulty in the country, as expected.

While he unlocked his phone to check the coordinates again the singer briefly thought of Chris and felt a pang of guilt in his chest. No doubt, the bassist would try to contact him again, same for his family and friends. But it was useless; he’d gotten rid of his phone as soon as he’d entered the plane. Their inquiries about his well-being would all go straight to voicemail. They wouldn’t hear of him again. It was better this way.

He drove for a while until he found rail tracks crossing his way. Pulling aside and jumping out of the jeep, he walked towards them and crouched down, lightly touching the surprisingly polished metal with the tips of his gloves. It wasn’t supposed to be a line with much traffic. In fact, this was supposed to be an unused and partly disassembled track.

Shielding his eyes from the light as he followed the trail, he realised that it seemed to lead him straight to the area he was aiming to go.

Back in the jeep, Matt checked his position on the map again. When he switched the engine on again, he maneuvered the car off the road and onto the terrain alongside the rail tracks. And he sped towards the arid, level landscape.


	4. 004 - Unchained

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I love you. Don’t shoot me. I love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello guys! Do you believe us if we say we're very sorry for the delay? No? What if we give you a long chapter now and another long one next week? Are we forgiven? :)

_???_  
_???  
_ _???_

 

Dom sat with his knees up against the wall. Around him, all the other passengers in the train compartment were silent. More than a dozen men and yet no one uttered a word. Exhaustion and fear spoke louder than any language could.

After days on end of tests and procedures and long periods of solitude and anxiety, of wondering for how much longer this would go on - for how much longer _he_ could go on - that day had marked a change.

Led out for what he had expected to be another round of torture, Dom had instead found himself being held down while someone moved a device to his right eye. The gleaming light that shot from it moved from the top to the bottom side and made him temporarily blind. There was no time to recover, however, as he was then pulled up roughly by another person.

The last thing he had seen before his head had been covered with a hood and he had been dragged outside was Simon lowering his head in sadness.

Thrown with others inside the back of a van, the ride had been all but a blur to him, unable to say if it had been minutes or hours until the car suddenly stopped. The hood had been removed on his arrival and, for the first time in what had felt like forever, he had been able to feel fresh air on his face, wind blowing in his hair, and take in his surroundings freely. The sight of nature, albeit an endless flat region with patches of snow, had overwhelmed him and he had felt tears springing to his eyes.

It had been such a bittersweet feeling because in that moment he had never been more certain that he was being taken to his grave.

An old train had been stationed in front of them, each of the compartments heavily guarded by two pairs of soldiers on each side. They had obviously been expected to board it, but one of the other prisoners had protested in a language that sounded like Russian to Dom’s ears. An enormous bearded man with an intricate tattoo covering his neck had then left the group of soldiers to approach him. He had worn a slightly different uniform, probably telling of a higher rank, and he’d been so bulky that he might as well have been twice Dom’s size.

The punch to the inmate’s face had come without preparation and yet it had been so strong that the man was lifted off the floor and propelled back several metres. A severe kick to the face had followed, spurts of blood gushing everywhere. Dom had flinched, tearing his eyes away from the barbaric scene. The bearded man, on the other hand, had stared around, challenging anyone else to follow the example of the first prisoner, who had laid at his feet bleeding and unmoving.

No one had dared to repeat the action.

The journey had lasted for a couple of hours when the train rattled unexpectedly and then stopped abruptly, sending most of the passengers flying across the carriage.

Dom had just raised up on his fours when there was a commotion followed by shouting sounding from outside. He turned around confused, sharing questioning looks with the others around him.

Several of his companions were quick to peer through the bars in the windows and whisper between themselves in complicity. When the drummer stood on his toes to have a look himself, he realised what had caused the stop: there seemed to be a fallen tree across the rail tracks. The other prisoners kept hissing low and discreetly pointing at the windows as they moved around and Dom’s eyes widened when he realised what they were about to do. While a couple peeked out from the windows, others, the strongest looking individuals, attacked the old and rusty iron bars, attempting to loosen them enough to permit an escape.

He could barely believe it when they succeeded, the excitement in the compartment shooting through the roof. They didn’t waste time, climbing up to the windows and helping each other to get outside. Dom took a hand gratefully to gain leverage to jump out. He landed in the snow with a soft thud, closing his eyes momentarily.

Freedom.

He hadn’t taken more than a few steps on shaky limbs, trying to figure out whether they were fleeing in packs or if each man was on his own when he froze. There was no mistaking to the meaning of all the yelling behind him – they had been caught. He heard a shot followed by a painful grunt. That was all it took.

“Fuck!”

He took off and ran as fast as he could without looking back, blindly sprinting across the trees and into the forest.

 

_Please, please, please._

 

The mantra played in a loop in his head. He didn’t care that he had no idea where he was going or that he had no plan whatsoever; the heavy snowfall made it hard to see the way but all that mattered was that there had to be as much distance as possible between him and his captors.

There were aggressive shouts behind him before loud barking echoed through the dead forest. The prospect of being hunted by ferocious dogs propelled him to run even faster, even though his legs burned with so much exertion. The endless tests and lack of nutrition and exercise had definitely taken a toll on his fitness and he felt too weak to keep the pace for very long.

He looked to the side where one of his escape partners was losing the battle against his body and became slower. Their eyes met for a brief moment before a loud bang was heard and the other man slumped down.

For a split second Dom debated to stop and turn back to help him, but he knew that it was useless and there was no way he would get another chance at freedom. So with a heavy heart and tears prickling in his eyes he just continued his flight. When another bullet hit a nearby tree he knew that it had been the right decision.

He arrived at more even terrain. Not realising that there were small frozen patches in front of him, he slipped, the energy he’d put into running making him now skid along the cold ground until he landed face first in the snow. He panicked when he heard one of the hounds approaching fast and he rose to his knees in an effort to crawl away. But the dog was infinitely faster than him, with jaws that would rip through his flesh effortlessly; it’d either kill him or keep him immobilised until its master finished the job.

Just then the animal appeared behind him and leapt. It was a desperate action when Dom’s hand patted the ground blindly until his fingers closed around a heavy, broken tree branch. He rolled and in the same motion swung the wood in his hands. It hit the hound in the snout, but wasn’t enough to knock it down. The sharp teeth grazed his hand and he cried out.

The dog was now above him, growling and snarling savagely, and he didn’t dare moving. Heavy steps were approaching and Dom knew it then: there was no escape. His only chance, and he hadn’t even gotten out of these cursed woods.

Wasn’t there supposed to be a reason for him to be here? Simon had said that God must have sent him, but all he could think about in this moment was that this was just a sadistic game for whoever was up there.

Still, even now he had the naïve hope that someone would come and rescue him, save him from this inevitable outcome. It was true, he wasn’t a spiritual person, but his belief solely relied in one single man and ran far deeper than any religion ever could.

“Matt. _Matt_!” he shouted and closed his eyes. It was the only name he could think of. “Matt! Help!”

 

 _???,  Kazakhstan_  
_Sunday, 6th December 2015  
_ _14:12_

 

Matt swore when he had to steer harshly once again to avoid being pushed into a tree. The path next to the trail tracks was surprisingly hard to navigate on, although the jeep had had no problem whatsoever with the frozen ground before. The forest, too, was closing in on him the further he moved and it was snowing heavily by now. It seemed like nature itself was trying to protect whoever or whatever was awaiting him at his destination. It didn’t matter; a whole mountain could stand in his way and he wouldn’t give up until he had reached his final goal.

Another vibration hit the vehicle and the gun slipped from the passenger’s seat to the floor. With an exasperated sigh Matt veered further from the railroad before he stopped the jeep and stared ahead. Fucking useless car, fucking useless gun and fucking useless _everything_.   

It seemed like all he could feel nowadays was anger and sorrow. There was nothing left of the man he once used to be. In a way, he felt like his transformation into a drone was now complete; he was only functional to serve one purpose, stripped of everything but those two emotions that kept him going. But at least the anger let him do this, do his last job. The latter only left him to wallow and hope the end would claim him sooner rather than later.

He turned off the engine and stepped outside. Hit with snowflakes and an icy breeze, he closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, trying to cleanse his mind from everything that was beginning to swirl through his head. There was no point in thinking about anything other than this mission. Thinking led to remembering, and that hurt him more than any physical wound he’d ever sustained. It was a disadvantage he couldn’t afford.

A distant sound was carried by the wind and Matt furrowed his brow before snapping his eyes open in alert. It sounded like something big had crashed.

He reached out for the binoculars inside his backpack and looked on to the winter landscape ahead. A train. There was a train stopped ahead, several human figures moving about in the front. They were trying to remove a tree from the tracks, probably fallen during the storm last night.

A train on a track that shouldn’t even exist, crashing into an unexpected obstacle in its way. Interesting.

Deciding to adjust his plans, Matt zipped up his padded jacket properly and made a grab for his beanie and gloves, putting them on before he crouched down to retrieve the gun. Looking left and right, he decided to march on through the woods.

The shouts became clearer the closer he came to the area, and he could distinguish barking as well. Stopping in a strategic position, he pulled out the binoculars again. People clad in black military-like uniforms stood next to the train, some had hounds next to them sniffing the ground, and several men in grey overalls were being pushed into the carriages, some more forcefully than others. A slave train, no doubt.

A gun was fired close to where Matt was observing the commotion from and he immediately rushed behind a tree in case that he’d been spotted, but there was nobody advancing in his direction. He moved from tree to tree carefully until he could hear quick footsteps on the snowy path.

A man in a grey overall passed by his hiding spot, while another one further away sprinted by. He looked behind himself just when another shot rang through the forest and the stranger closer to him went down. A third man, taller and wearing the black uniform, came into view and advanced on the stranger on the ground, who pleaded for his life in a slavic language. All his begging was for naught as he was shot in the head.

Matt’s eyes turned to slits.

Quickly making a decision, he turned around the tree and tiptoed behind the prosecutor. His arms snaked around the other man’s throat faster than he could react and with a swift movement, Matt twisted his neck and it snapped with a loud crack. The body fell on top of his own victim, dead.

With the tip of his boot he pushed the black clad man onto his back before he crouched down. There was a dog tag fastened around his neck, identical to the one Matt had been carrying since Positano. He nodded to himself; he was on the right track.

He moved to the victim, but he was of no further use.  

Suddenly he heard one of the hounds barking at short distance, certainly on the hunt for the other captive he’d witnessed escaping, and it’d have its master in tow.

Matt sneaked back between the trees properly, closing in on the source of the commotion. Maneuvering in such a way that he was completely hidden from any watchful eyes, he sneaked between trees to get a closer look.

The safety of his gun clicked and Matt made his way over the frozen branches deeper into the woods, extra careful to avoid any cracked branches or other things that could make a sound and get their attention. His even breathing helped him to be able to recognise any sounds around him, so he could gauge where his enemies stood around him as they did not bother and didn’t need to stay quiet.

But his heightened hearing let him also hear something else and his already slow steps came to a complete halt.

“Matt. _Matt!”_

His head snapped to the side at that. Hearing his name here of all places was enough reason for extra caution, but the _voice_ … It couldn’t be. Was he hallucinating again..? He swallowed hard.

“Matt! Help!”

Matt’s legs moved before he could make up his mind. It wasn’t even rational to follow _his_ voice, but something in him had him sprint between the trees like a panther on a hunt.

He slowed down right before he reached a clearing, his heart stopping as soon as he spotted the man in the grey overall on the floor, one of the hounds towering above him and another soldier training his gun on him.

It wasn’t real. And yet, even if it wasn’t real, the flash of Dom he saw there on the floor, being attacked, was enough for him to raise his gun and dispatch the dog before he aimed to the side and shot down the uniform with no mercy.

 

***

 

When the gunshots rang through the woods and his captors dropped, Dom too was sure it wasn’t real. He was convinced he’d been captured and drugged again, or was already on his merry way up to heaven and dreaming, because there was no other possible explanation that made sense to him.

So when he turned aside to see where the shots had come from, it was with the serenity of someone who accepted that he couldn’t control his fate.

And then he saw _him._

He couldn’t conjure a better sight if he tried. It was in that moment that Dom realised it was all happening. Because no one but Matt could have pulled that off.

Dom had already rolled onto his front, but it took him several moments more to collect the energy to get up, trying to keep his emotions under control. Matt was approaching him and Dom smiled, spent. He dusted off his overall for no reason and held his injured wrist that was bleeding all over his hand now.

Words failed him as he stood on his feet with effort and faced Matt.

The smile fell from his lips.

The loud bang robbed him of his breath. He looked down at the icy ground between his feet where a small charred spot was visible, and only then did his brain register the fact that he had been shot at. His eyes raised up to look at Matt in shock, but the first thing he saw was the barrel of the gun pointed at his head. Matt was as pale as a ghost, his face giving away a strange mix of fear and fury.

“Who are you?”

Dom’s mouth opened and closed soundlessly until he managed to stutter out, “I’m... it’s m-me.”

“You’re dead,” Matt stated coldly. “You died. I saw you die.”

“I’m- I’m not. I’m here, I’m alive. Matt-“

As soon as he’d uttered his name again Matt’s face turned emotionless, a cold mask to hide what he’d just seen moments ago.

“Hands behind your head,” Matt commanded. “And get on your knees.”

Dom didn’t even think twice about disobeying with a gun pointed at his head. He complied slowly, first raising his hands and pressing them flat against the back of his head, then bending his legs, but it wasn’t quick enough for Matt. Lunging behind him with a big step, he kicked the back of his shins and Dom went down on his knees, his hands shooting out to break the fall. The pressure on his injured wrist was enough to make him wince in pain.

Matt’s heart was in his throat when he pressed the gun’s barrel against the head of the man at his feet. He pushed the small hairs away with it, blond roots peeking through the dark, washed out strands, to get a proper look at the neck. There was no visible wound. His heart skipped a beat.  

With his free, gloved hand Matt rubbed at his face harshly. This situation was doing his head in. He didn’t know what to think. He wanted nothing more than to believe that this was Dom, that he was alive, but he also knew that it was impossible, that he had died in Positano. If this was a doppelganger it was a very good one, so good that, for one short moment, Matt wanted to give in and surrender himself to him. If, after all, this was a hallucination, then he was as good as dead anyway.

“State your name, rank and purpose. Now.”

“What? I’m-“ Dom stammered, but swallowed hard when he felt the gun being pressed against his neck. Had they succeeded in turning Matt? The thought scared him shitless. He was shaking like a leaf now. “Matt. What are you doing? Don’t you recognise me? It’s me.”

“I won’t repeat myself. Answer if you know what’s good for you.”

“Dom. I’m _Dom_! You know who I am!”

“You’re not and we both know it, so try again.”

“But I am, I swear!” He tried to turn around to get another look at Matt, but was halted by the gun pushing against his head more harshly and he hiccupped. “Please.”

“If you’re Dom, then what was the last thing you said to me.” Matt could feel the gun in his hand wavering with held back emotion. “Before our parting. What did you say?”

“We- we were attacked. In the _villa_.”

That was easy to know. Any member of the organisation would know about that little fact.

“Before that. Something only me and Dom would know.”

“I-“ Dom started, but halted. He tried to remember what had happened, but there was a torrent of memories coming to him and at the same time he couldn’t for the life of himself think of something to say. “I don’t know. I think we were in bed. I can’t-“

With one well aimed swing the gun collided with Dom’s skull and he went down on his side, howling at the inflicted pain. But his eyes zoomed in on the furious face of who he had known as his best friend for most of his life, Matt’s eyes wild and deadly.

“Matt, come on!!” he begged. “I don’t know what you mean, we talked about so many things! It’s _me_! How can you not recognise me?”

But Matt only stared at him wordlessly, the gun slowly raising back up to aim at Dom’s head.

“Matt, no. Please. Please don’t do this.”

“Wrong answer,” Matt stated simply. The safety of the gun clicked. He had no reason to do this, but what he felt at the sight in front of him was beyond reason. “You’re a fucking liar and liars get killed.”

“I love you. Don’t shoot me. I love you.”

Matt’s finger tightened around the trigger.

“Sorry. I’m sorry!” Dom shouted and then became quiet.

He squeezed his eyes shut. After all the hardships, all that he - _they_ \- had gone through, this was how it was going to end.

He’d escaped death more often in the past couple of years than anyone should in their entire life, but this time there was nowhere to run. It would end here, and at the hands of the one and only person he would die for.

“I don’t know what’s happened to you, but if I had a gun now to defend myself, I’d never do it. You wanted me to shoot you and I would never do it. Just wanted to tell you that,” he breathed dejectedly. “Go on. Do it. Put me out of my misery. Nothing matters without you.”

But the bullet didn’t come. There was only silence around them for what felt like forever.

Finally, Matt whispered, unbelievingly, “What did you just say..?”

Dom opened one eye cautiously. Matt’s fury seemed gone and had instead been replaced by shock. It was like he was frozen in place - except for the barrel of the gun, which wavered slightly in the air.

He swallowed, his throat dry and raw like sandpaper.

“You wanted me to defend myself if you ever tried to hurt me when you weren’t yourself... Do you remember that, Matt?” he tried softly. “And now, here we are, it seems.” A bitter chuckle escaped his lips. “And I know I could have all the weapons in the world in my hands and wouldn’t try to harm you even if it was my only chance.”

Blood rushed to Matt’s head and for a brief moment he saw everything around him spinning as the man in the grey overall fell silent.

The memories played in Matt’s mind as if they were taking place at that very instant. But at the same time, he had never wanted to believe in anything as much as he did now. The level of devastation if he was wrong about it was impossible to gauge and yet...

He was not wrong. This man wasn’t an impostor.

“Get up.”

“What?”

“I said get up,” he repeated, choking on his words as he put the gun away, drawing closer to the other man slowly as to not give away just how much his legs were wobbling at the moment.

Matt hadn’t taken more than a couple of steps when a gunshot boomed and reminded him of where exactly they were right now. In the millisecond it took his brain to catch up he dived forwards and tackled Dom to the ground. Getting back up onto his elbows, his head swerved towards the trees to the side where the shot must have come from.

Another bullet whizzed through the air towards them and Matt and Dom both scrambled to get up. Dom’s legs were still shaking and the slippery ground didn’t give much purchase. He skidded along the ice with his knees painfully, but the hand on his back pushed him on until he managed to stand up.

“Run!”

They entered the forest from the other side and sprinted between the trees, Matt trying to find the best way while Dom clutched his wrist over his sleeve in an attempt to stanch the bleeding. The next shot splintered the wood of a tree that they passed next to their heads, and Matt turned around without slowing down to blindly aim his gun at their attacker.

When he pulled the trigger and heard a faint grunt with no counter shot following he guessed that he’d managed to hit his target – a lucky shot.

But there was no time to stop and bathe in victory; the absence of the two uniformed men would be noted soon, if it hadn’t been already, and he’d just disposed of a third one. In addition, at least one of the prisoners – _Dom_ – was still on the loose. They’d send out more people to catch him.

Matt couldn’t even begin to understand what exactly had happened and how his world had shifted off axis once again, how this had gone from a suicidal quest to avenge his loved one to a rescue mission, but for now his priority was clear: get them to safety as fast as possible.

Next to him, Dom started to slowly lose speed. The fatigue had finally outweighed the adrenaline, his body refusing to keep the pace going. He couldn’t even so much as protest as his legs just stopped moving before finally giving way and making him land on all fours. Matt, who’d stopped running as soon as he’d realised that Dom wasn’t by his side anymore, backtracked to the drummer.

“Can’t move anymore... Matt,” Dom wheezed through gritted teeth before the singer even had a chance to open his mouth. “Can’t keep... going... _Fuck!_ ”

There were people back in pursuit and even though they could hear barking that indicated more hounds approaching Dom couldn’t get up. His heart was beating in his chest wildly, but all he could do was sit there and clutch his throbbing wrist with tears prickling at his eyes.

Just as one of the beasts came into view, Matt put one knee on the ground and aimed. One shot and the dog went down. The agent whirled around and trained the gun into the distance at a target Dom couldn’t see, but another whine let him know that he had hit bullseye. After that, there was only silence.

Attention back on Dom, Matt crouched down, his hand shooting out to claw around the other man’s upper arm in an iron grip. Dom whimpered at the contact, but let him do, even when he started to pull him upwards. He was sure that it must have been magic when the singer actually managed to get him into a standing position as if it was the easiest thing in the world and eased the feeling of his body falling apart. Realistically, he knew that it was impossible, but Dom felt as if Matt was channeling his own energy for him to use so he could keep going just a bit longer. Once he stood he couldn’t help but stare into Matt’s blue eyes, Matt staring back. It was only a spare second, but it felt like an eternity in which Matt seemed to search something in his face before he finally looked away.

“Matt-“

“Shh,” Matt took a finger to his own lips. His head moved to the right very slowly until his eyes narrowed, his body immediately moving into action. “Move, quickly!”

He pushed Dom towards one of the bushes around them in an attempt to hide just as the wind picked up and the air was filled with loud noise. Now it was impossible for Dom to miss what Matt had picked up on long before him; there was a helicopter approaching. The aircraft flew above their heads, low enough that they could see it was carrying more armed soldiers, and Dom instinctively ducked even lower. It didn’t seem like anyone had spotted the two as the helicopter flew off into the distance.

Matt’s eyes followed the trajectory of the helicopter for a long moment, narrowing them in thought when its destination became clear.

“Move it, we can’t stop now,” Matt said once the coast was clear and pulled Dom with him.

“Where are we going? Do you know where we are?”

They advanced more carefully than before; instead of running they now walked in a fast pace, Matt leading Dom from tree to tree, mindful to watch out for any more pursuers.

It was incredibly reassuring to know that the other man knew where they were going, because, looking around, Dom didn’t have the slightest clue of their whereabouts. If the snow had been worse he wouldn’t even have been able to tell up from down.

They seemed to get closer to people as he could slowly begin to make out faded voices, drowned by the helicopter circling above their heads. When they climbed a small hill and the way ahead became clearer Dom stopped walking, his hand shooting out to hold onto the sleeve of Matt’s wrist.

“Wait! No! We can’t go there!”

The other man spun around to face him, but all Dom could do was stare ahead in utter terror. There, in front of them, were train tracks, and he knew exactly where they would lead.

“There’s a train, Matt!” he all but shouted in panic. “There’s a train, and they-“

“I know. We’re not going for the train.”

He kept walking and only turned around once to check on Dom. The drummer still looked at him in disbelief, but started moving as soon as Matt looked for him.

“Where are we going?” he inquired nonetheless. “Is the MI6 waiting for us?”

The chuckle that he received as answer made him blink twice.

“Then, who..? Dom connected the dots and shook his head in disbelief. “You’re crazy. You came here alone?!”

“Listen, you-”

He stopped moving and Dom almost walked into him, so abrupt was the stop. When Matt crouched lower he did so as well. A couple of metres away from them was a jeep surrounded by men in uniforms. They were talking to each other, one of them holding up papers that seemed to belong to the car. A third man was checking the bushes on the other side of their hideout, stabbing between the twigs with the rifle of his machine gun in an attempt to find the owner of the vehicle. Apart from that, there were no soldiers in sight.

The helicopter passed them by again, making a mix of snow and ice hit their faces and both Matt and Dom shielded their eyes. Between the leaves and ice, Matt watched as the helicopter went lower and landed on the tracks right in front of them, just as he had predicted, two soldiers jumping out to join their comrades.

“You think we could get that jeep and drive off?”

Matt shook his head. “That’s how I got here, but we can’t use it anymore, we’d be seen.”

“Then how?”  

The penny dropped and the drummer shook his head nervously as soon as he understood. It was mental, they’d never make it. He licked his chapped lips and felt another shiver running through his body, which was not entirely caused by their predicament.

“Matt, that’s not going to work.”

Grabbing a new magazine from his backpack and putting it into his Beretta, the singer sneaked closer to the edge of the forest.

“Stay here and wait for my signal.”

He aimed at the first soldier. The deafening sound of the gunshot was like the preface for hell to break loose. By the time the others finally located the rebel and retaliated, he had already taken down a second man and was running towards the jeep, diving behind it to escape the bullets before aiming to the side to get rid of the third soldier that had been checking the bushes earlier.

A bullet only barely missed his foot and Matt rolled from behind the jeep towards the two men that had exited the helicopter, shooting one of them in the chest and the other in the thigh. When he was closer to the latter he made sure to neutralise him with another shot to the head.

“ _Get in!_ ” he shouted to Dom and waved for him to jump into the helicopter.

The rotor blades of the helicopter started again, ready to take off. Of course the pilots had caught up on the fight and now tried to escape it. They’d have to be quick.

Dom took off immediately, to a stream of bullets puncturing the ground he was running on, Matt immediately firing back to cover for him.

The helicopter was half a metre above ground when Dom finally reached Matt and they jumped inside. Dom landed on the floor with a loud thud thanks to the momentum he’d gained but Matt only managed to make a grab for the skids and scrambled to get better purchase, his legs swinging in the air as the helicopter lifted.

“Matt!”

Sliding towards the edge on his stomach, Dom outstretched his arms to help him, but one of the pilots had abandoned his seat and kicked him to the back of the helicopter. Retrieving a handgun from his belt, the pilot aimed at Dom, but he wasn’t prepared for Matt to grab his ankle and pull him over the edge and out of the aircraft. It was also the moment that Matt managed to get enough momentum to heave himself into the helicopter. He went straight to the pilot and shot him in the head, pulling him out of his seat afterwards and tossing him to one side.

“You can fly this?” Dom asked, amazed, watching Matt situate himself in the pilot’s seat while scrambling over the dead body to sit down next to him.

“Do I look like fucking James Bond to you?”

He clicked a few buttons that looked like they could do shit and slightly pulled the control stick. He knew the theory but he had little to no experience on the field and not with a military aircraft. But it seemed like the little knowledge he had was good enough for now, as the helicopter took off successfully with just small hiccups.  

The success was however short-lived, when another helicopter pulled up to them. Where the hell had that come from so quickly? Matt swore under his breath; it must have been there from the beginning and he’d missed it.

The helicopter took a sharp turn when the enemy opened fire at them, Matt trying everything to avoid getting hit. But he didn’t know how to maneuver this thing, sooner or later they’d get hit one way or another. To make matters worse, they were about to enter a snowstorm that made it even harder to see anything.

The interior vibrated with the force of nature around them, sometimes added by another explosion from a missing missile going off around them. Dom looked out of the small window next to his head in an attempt to see something. He managed to catch sight of the helicopter hunting them down during a particular turn: it looked different from the one they were flying in, much bigger and armed to the teeth. He had not the slightest clue about helicopters or military vehicles in general, but this looked like a proper helicopter gunship, and for a moment he wondered why something like that would be used during a prison escape.

A big missile shot through the air and hit their tail rotor, the piece going down in flames and sending the helicopter into a spin. All displays went into haywire, an alarm signal and flashing red light warning them of the obvious; that the machine was gonna go down.

Matt steered the controlling stick harshly and tried to use the pedals to get the helicopter back on track, but he also knew that it was useless when he was missing one of the most essential parts of the vehicle.

“I don’t wanna die, Matt! Do something!”

“Shut up!” Matt shouted and pulled the stick towards him to raise the helicopter’s nose. “You’re not gonna die, for fuck’s sake!”

Just when he’d managed to stabilise the helicopter somewhat the burning tail rotor hit the peak of a mountain. A death sentence.

From a safe distance, the second helicopter hovered, following the situation of the hijacked vehicle.

The uncontrolled helicopter somersaulted in the air and hit the ground in full force, skidding along until it stopped at the foot of the mountain. Billows of smoke soared towards the sky amid the icy flakes of the storm.

The enemy helicopter hovered above the crash site for a few minutes before it veered away. There would be no survivors.

Mission accomplished.


	5. 005 - Trial by Ice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, new chapter before Simulation Theory comes out. Enjoy what is sure to be a busy week Muse-wise, everyone, we can't wait to hear the new songs! :D 
> 
> See you on the other side.....

???, Kazakhstan  
_Sunday, 6_ _th_ _December 2015  
_ 16:02

 

Matt breathed out in relief when he heard the helicopter flying away and allowed his forehead to rest on the cold, hard snow for a brief moment.

Naturally, their attackers assumed there would be no survivors from the crash. A very accurate conclusion; the impact would have killed them instantly - had they not jumped out with parachutes before the crash. The snowstorm and the smoke had done the rest, luckily covering their escape.

It had been a close call.

He pushed and pulled until he extracted himself from the parachute, looking around without restrictions now. It was dismaying to realise that the small patch of lights he’d taken note of right before they had jumped were now nowhere to be seen.

The snowstorm had turned into a full blown blizzard and they were lost in the middle of a sodding Kazakhstan province that seemed as devoid of life as a tundra region. Patting his pockets, Matt realised that he’d put his phone in his backpack along with the rest of his belongings, which he’d dropped as they had raced to put the parachutes on before the helicopter had gone up in flames. He had no backup and no equipment whatsoever with him, except a Beretta with a handful of bullets. Fantastic.

Matt looked around and swallowed when his eyes finally fell on the heap of white nylon tenting and billowing in the wind a few metres ahead of him, his heart beating faster. He was suddenly reminded how he wasn’t alone on this journey anymore.

Lifting a corner of the parachute, he pulled strong and rolled it away, revealing Dom underneath. The drummer seemed startled at first, but then covered his eyes from the snow with an arm, taking a deep breath.

“Are you okay?”

Dom hesitated before he nodded in return. ”They’re gone, right?”

“They’re gone.”

Matt offered him a hand to help him up, his heart skipping another beat when Dom’s grey eyes met his. Fear and worry still clouded them, yet they felt homey and familiar, and for one short moment he just wanted to fall and accept his demise. But even now his body worked on instinct when his brain wanted to shut down. He gripped the cold hand tight in his to help Dom up, the temptation to not let go of it at all so strong that it took all of his willpower to release his hold.

Dom seemed a little dazed as he looked around, wiping his nose on his left sleeve before he rubbed his arms. He wasn’t bleeding from his wrist anymore, but he was bound to have an ugly wound forming. Matt motioned with his head so they’d start walking and Dom followed immediately.

“We need to find shelter or we’ll be in trouble,” Matt said. “I saw a village from the helicopter, to the east. Can’t be more than a few minutes.” When he saw Dom shivering, he began to unzip his jacket. “Take this before you freeze.”

“No.” The other man stopped him with a hand on his arm, his voice stronger. “I’m fine for now, it’s worse if we’re both cold. We’ll share.”

He was taken aback by Dom’s reply but not entirely convinced, so he just removed his gloves and beanie instead and held them out to Dom. “Take these then.”

They trudged in the snow in silence, hunched and often with their hands in front of their eyes. The icy flakes hitting their faces harshly thanks to the strong wind not only made it difficult to see anything but white, it also made breathing a strenuous task. Matt still hadn’t spotted any traces of a path used by people, but the village would be right ahead, he was sure of it.

At his side, Dom slowed down considerably, his head bent forward and his body swaying slightly. Matt slowed his steps as well and opened his mouth to offer his jacket again, but just then the drummer fell with a groan.

On his knees next to him immediately, Matt rolled him onto his side, quickly unzipping his jacket at the same time. Dom’s lips were already tinted a faint blue.

“I’m-m ok-kay. J-just t-tripped…”

“No, you’re not, get up. Come on. Put this on.”

Dom’s head lolled as he maneuvered him into the padded jacket, barely conscious, and Matt finished by pulling Dom’s left arm around his shoulders so he could support his weight as they walked side by side.

He grunted with effort as he heaved them up and suppressed a shiver, continuing in the same path resolutely. The village was right ahead, he knew it would be; there were no hills or mountains in the way, they just couldn’t see it because of the weather. They had to keep walking a little further. And avoid dying of hypothermia in the meanwhile.

“We’re almost there,” he said aloud, more to himself than to Dom. His energy started to decline much more rapidly, his eyes drooping dangerously. “It’s right there.”

Dom’s head jolted a little, only a few of his slurred words audible. “- almost home, yeah?”

Matt swallowed thickly, the sudden swell of emotions making it difficult to talk. “Soon. We’ll be home soon, I promise.”

He tugged harder on Dom’s arm and hoisted him a little straighter, afraid his own legs would give way beneath him. The other man’s body pressed against him and he closed his eyes for a moment; the realisation that he might have Dom back started to burble inside him. He knew that if he entertained that thought now, it would make everything more difficult. The cold was already permeating through his bones and he was struggling to keep his breathing even. For the first time in a long while he felt fear building inside of him.

He could _not_ lose Dom now, no matter what it took. Not after all they’d been through. He didn’t come all this way so they’d die in a snowstorm in the middle of nowhere.

Something materialized in his field of vision, something different to what he’d been seeing ever since they’d started walking. He halted for a second before proceeding with renewed energy. Darker, tall, square… with a triangular shaped roof.

“Found it… _found it_! Look!”

In his haste to reach what now appeared to be a wooden hut, Matt walked faster than what Dom could keep up with and the drummer tripped, dragging Matt down with him into the soft snow.

Mustering all his remaining strength, Matt yanked Dom up again with a vigorous pull. The effort left him seeing black spots and he swayed on the spot, sure he was going to pass out and drop them. But even with shaky limbs he remained firm on the ground and they covered the short distance to the small house without any more falls.

No light came from inside the hut. Matt let Dom gently slide down against a wall, the grey eyes gazing past him, and he battled his own numb body as he grabbed his gun from the holster and peered at the dark windows before he approached the door, listening for a sound inside. It was a bit difficult because of the howling of the wind, but he was sure that nothing came from the inside, even after he knocked.

He tried the doorknob and was surprised when it actually moved. The sound of the door creaking was audible even over the rushing of the wind and Matt stepped inside, gun on eye level and hammer unlocked.

Snow immediately sprayed the wood panels of the widespread area. There were two small windows that were roughly attacked by the snow, and apart from the door that he had entered through he couldn’t see another, leading him to believe this was the only room in the building. There was a huge fireplace in the middle, something that must have been a kitchen unit to his left and a table with maps and what looked like emergency plans on his right.

The place was deserted.

He turned around and quickly dragged Dom inside by his underarms, kicking the door shut immediately. He himself was shivering so badly that he could barely coordinate his movements, but there was no time to waste. Having located some firewood conveniently stacked next to the fireplace, Matt collected anything at hand that could be used to quickly light a fire: the few books in the only shelf, the dirty rag on the floor at the doorway, a small cushion on the old armchair. He set a couple of pieces of wood on top and prayed there were matches or a lighter somewhere.

He found them inside a cupboard on the makeshift kitchen area, along with an array of bottles that he knew contained vodka even before he took a look at the labels. He smashed one inside the fireplace on top of the wood and threw a match to the pile. A small fire burst instantly, bright flames immediately consuming paper and cloth, and Matt turned to the immobile figure on the floor, dragging him closer to the heat.

“Can you hear me?” He patted the side of his face gently, the grey eyes fluttering open at the touch. “You’re gonna be okay now, yeah? We’ve got a fire.”

Dom replied with a nod, but his movement was laboured and his pulse weak.

There was a pile of something folded in the far corner and Matt wondered if it could be blankets. He strode across the hut to pull on the fabric and among the cloud of dust that ensued and made him sneeze, there were indeed a couple of thick blankets. He dragged them across the floorboards until he reached Dom and then kneeled next to him. At his touch, Dom startled and Matt jerked away, suddenly unsure. He tried again with slower movements, making sure Dom could see his face, and it went smoother. Stripping him down to his underwear, he wrapped the cold body head to toe in the blankets, keeping him as close to the fire as he could.

“Do you feel better?” he asked. “It’s me, it’s Matt. Can you hear me?”

Dom coughed but nodded. “It’s getting… warmer… thanks.”

Matt almost stumbled when he stood up again, running a hand through his hair. He snatched one of the bottles of vodka and sat on the floor facing Dom, his back propped on the wall next to the fireplace. He laid the gun on the floor next to him and uncapped the bottle, taking a big gulp. The alcohol burnt his insides and he dipped his head back against the wall. His hands were trembling so violently now that he almost thought he was going to have a seizure. Closing his free hand to a fist, Matt took another swig from the bottle. He couldn’t tell if he was shivering because of the cold, the nerves or pure exhaustion. All he knew was that he was drained and needed to calm down.

 

***

 

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed when he jolted at the sound of a loud scraping noise, but he was instantly aware he had dozed off.

Instinctively picking up the gun, he pointed it in front of him, ready to shoot at any sign of danger.

There was nothing except the sounds of the fire crackling and the wind hissing outside, though, and no other movement besides the dancing shadows on the walls. It must have been night already, but with the snowstorm still raging, when he looked out of the windows the outside appeared dark grey instead of the usual pitch darkness. There was no way to tell the exact time.

Dom was now sat Indian style in front of the fireplace. The dusty blanket covered his head like a hood, but Matt could still see his gaze alternating between the agent’s face and the gun in his hand.

“I was adding wood to the fire before it went out,” he explained. “Sorry I woke you up.”

Matt swallowed thickly, his mouth as dry as sawdust. He wiped his forehead; he was sweating. Gulping down some more vodka, he shook his shoulders to ease the tension before he focused on Dom again. The drummer still looked very peaky.  

“How are you feeling?”

“Better.” Dom eyed the fire before his gaze swerved to the bottle in Matt’s hands, his chin poking out to point at it. “Got some more of that?”

The brunet looked at the label. He cleared his throat and reluctantly stretched out his arm to hand it over. “But not too much.”

He stood up, gun still in hand, and directed to the sink to try the faucet. Unsurprisingly, it didn’t work. He eyed the cupboard for a moment before he opened it again. There was more than the vodka, cups and pans among the cobwebs: a few small packs were stacked in the back. Matt was sure they would contain combat rations. He took one and checked the expiry date. August 2013, not good. Trying one bag after the other, he ended up finding a few that were still good for consumption, which he put aside. He grabbed a single pack and tore the plastic of the sealed bag open.

“There’s food here. I’m going to get water, you need to keep hydrated.”  

Dom’s eyes widened when Matt held the bag out to him and quickly reached for it with both hands. Going straight for the larger container inside the pack that held the main meal, he didn’t bother with the plastic cutlery included. He dipped his fingers right in, taking big chunks at once of what seemed to be meat stew.

Meanwhile, Matt opened the door a fraction and was immediately met with a big amount of snow pushing inside alongside the ice cold wind. It took all of his power to push against the wood to close it again before the wind put out the fire, and he was once again grateful that they’d found what appeared to be an emergency shelter - exactly for people like them that got lost in the area during a dreadful storm. No one would survive that blizzard for long. He rubbed at his arms as a reminder before he bent down to scoop up a cupful of snow from the floor, which he then placed near the fireplace so it could melt.

He didn’t say a word while Dom continued to devour, one by one, all the items available in the ration. Instead, the agent roamed around with vodka in one hand and the gun in the other, inspecting the hut for anything that might be useful.

“Um..” Dom started, his mouth full. “You don’t want any of this?”

The floor next to him was covered in empty packs and he was still licking his fingers. Matt tried not to think of why he was starved and instead focused on the fact that they had food that could be consumed.

Dom’s wounded wrist was exposed when he chugged down the water in one go and Matt exhaled, joining him on the floor and putting the gun and the bottle down.

“I’m not hungry,” he replied to the earlier question and motioned with his chin. ”Let me see that.”

Dom acceded and offered him his arm, albeit his movements were still cautious. Matt couldn’t help but stare at the bruises on his wrist and the needle marks along his arm, but he decided that this, along with others, was a question that could come later. The injury seemed mostly superficial; it wasn’t a deep gash, the skin cut open where sharp teeth had grazed the flesh. An animal bite, though, nonetheless.

“We need to keep this clean so it won’t get infected.” He grabbed the bottle of vodka between them with his free hand. “This will do, there isn’t any first aid kit here.” It probably had been stolen.

“Wait, you want to...?”

Matt almost rolled his eyes. “Suck it up. It’s either this or get an infection and die.”

Dom gulped and looked away before he slowly shifted on the floor to turn sideways to Matt. “What’s a little sting, right? Can’t-”

He grunted low and squeezed his eyes shut, reflexively pulling his arm back at the sharp pain inflicted by alcohol in contact with tissue. But Matt was gripping his hand tight and poured some more until he deemed himself satisfied. He followed by tearing off a strip of cloth from the t-shirt he wore underneath his turtleneck top, as it would be cleaner than anything else inside that hut, and carefully bandaged Dom’s wrist with it.

The small knot he was attempting to finish the dressing with insisted on coming undone, though. He bit his lip in frustration as he tried to concentrate harder on the task of pulling an end of the cloth through the loop, but the more he tried the more his hands shook. Dom’s hand finally slipped out from under the ministrations and he brought them both over Matt’s, gently covering and stilling them between his.

“It’s okay.”

Lost for words, Matt only closed his eyes and bowed his head until his chin touched his chest.

For almost three weeks now, he had wished for nothing else than to see Dom again, talk to him, and feel his warm touch. In his head he had known that the chance of it ever happening again required a miracle; in his heart he had refused to accept that reality and clung to the hope that there was still something that could be done, something that _he_ could do. The quest he had blindly launched himself into was more than seeking justice or an act of revenge, it was also rooted in a last irrational wish, one that at the same time he repeatedly told himself was futile.

He’d been living in an endless circle of denial, anger and bargaining, partly craving the bliss of unconsciousness so he could maybe see him once again, although more often than not dreams were just as excruciating. And even when they weren’t, waking up to the truth that Dom was gone was like ripping open and cutting deeper a wound that hadn’t even begun to heal. It hadn’t gotten easier with each time it had happened, only more difficult.

And yet a miracle had happened and now he was incapable of processing it. Still reeling from the events of the last few hours, it had been his survival instinct and the fact that they had had to escape danger, first at the hands of humans and later from nature, that had kept him busy enough to postpone facing this new truth. Now, however...

Dom gently squeezing his hands came almost as a reminder of it and he looked up at the other man, gazing at him as if for the first time. In the time they’d been apart, his cheeks had visibly hollowed. The rough, unkempt beard aged him and the contrast between the fair facial hair and the faded black in the strands that fell over his eyes made him look haggard. There were dark circles carved under his eyes and he had a few bruises, some appearing more recent than others. Dirt clung to his skin like glue. But underneath it all he could see the face that had haunted him since his world had come crashing down.

“Dom...”

Finally, he had allowed himself to utter the name. It felt like a whole mountain had to be moved for him to be able to say it again; and yet it fell from his lips as easily as it always had.

The skin around Dom’s eyes crinkled when he smiled and he squeezed Matt’s hand again as if confirming his identity. Matt hesitantly reached out one hand, afraid of what would happen if it touched him. But when he did, to lightly trace down the bridge of Dom’s nose, nothing happened. It was real. Dom didn’t disappear in a puff of smoke. He was real and not another figment of his imagination. He had closed his eyes and made to lean into the touch.

“You’re not dead,” Matt finally whispered.

Dom looked back at him, the flames from the fireplace reflected in his eyes. The question was written on his face.

He gazed down.

“In Positano, there was… the gas leak caused an explosion.” The words were so difficult to say, the images they invoked haunting him continuously. “And… and I was outside in the garden, but you… weren’t,” he whispered. “It burned the whole place down.”

Dom’s thumb stroked over Matt’s knuckles, thoughtfully. “I… I didn’t know, I’m sorry… I don’t remember any of that. I’ve been locked up until today… I didn’t know what happened, I didn’t know where we were. It was all just for sort of… experiments.” He swallowed. “I kept hoping someone would turn up, that you’d show up. But I didn’t know if you were... alright. I thought...” His voice broke and thinned to a whisper. “I thought I was going to die.”

He paused and squeezed his eyes shut as if it would erase the memories.

Before he understood what he was doing, Matt was leaning into Dom and the drummer immediately reached his arms around the lithe body in front of him. There was more facial hair than usual grazing Matt’s skin and Dom didn’t smell like the regular shampoo brand or aftershave. But the way his arms fit around his body was exactly the same and his embrace emanated as much warmth as it always had.

Matt raised his arms, his hands hovering over Dom’s shoulders. He couldn’t bring himself to close the distance. He was unable to fully grasp the concept that everything was real and happening.

“Can you… Can you please just touch me?”

Taken aback by the sudden request, Matt blinked. His insides churned as his brain conjured certain possibilities of what they had done to Dom, that they’d turned him into someone else. But Dom simply took his hand and led it to his face.

“Can you just...” He moved it so Matt would caress his cheek and get the hint. “Just like this. _Please_.”

It made the singer flinch and he pulled back, struck by the realisation of the meaning behind the words. Not brainwashing or manipulation; Dom was simply looking for human contact that he’d been deprived of… and that Matt hadn’t given him up until that moment either, he realised.

Before Dom could feel disappointment by the loss of contact, Matt’s hand was back on his cheek, thumb stroking the side of Dom’s face. Matt’s other arm finally slid around his body and hugged him close, squeezing. His chin firmly set on Dom’s shoulder, he turned so that his nose would touch his throat. Warm exhales hit the drummer’s skin.

He wanted to gaze at Dom. Kiss him and touch him and feel him. He wanted to be intimate with him right here and now, and just watch the fire in silence at the same time. He wanted to make up for whatever Dom had gone through.

Matt was only aware that he was crying when he realised the sob he heard was his own. He wanted to comfort him, having gotten a mere glimpse of what he must have been through. But instead it was Dom who pulled him impossibly closer and rubbed his back up and down, slowly rocking them both on the spot. Tears ran down his chin freely, absorbed by the grubby blanket covering the other man; he grasped at the hair on the back of his neck, his fingers trembling as he curled them tightly around the locks.

“I’m sorry, Dom.” A choked gasp broke from his throat. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Dom responded by holding him tighter and burying his nose deep in Matt’s neck. When Matt pulled back to be able to cup his face between his hands, he saw that grey eyes too shone with tears.

“What did we do to deserve this, Matt? We don’t deserve this.”

He shook his head and leaned his forehead against Dom’s, one hand at the back of his neck and their lips brushing as he spoke.

“No, we don’t.”

He angled his head slightly, closing the distance between them with a chaste kiss, both struggling to keep their breathing in check.

Dom wiped the wetness from his face with a gentle stroke and Matt pressed his lips to his mouth again. Dom’s lips felt chapped under his. He then tried the corner of his mouth; followed by his cheek, then his forehead. The blanket slid down bare shoulders as Matt began pressing rapid, small kisses between shallow exhales of breath. One arm circled the drummer’s waist to pull him nearer. He took Dom’s hand from the side of his face to kiss the palm, then leaned forward towards his mouth again. He couldn’t stop. His fingernails dug into Dom’s side now and the other hand fisted his hair.

The drummer slid both arms around Matt’s neck while he continued to cover him in caresses, while he pushed with his nose to reach the side of his neck, then his collarbone. He tried to reach lower, dipping toward his chest, the motion forcing them on the floor together, over the animal skin that was laid on the floorboards in front of the fireplace.

A desperate need for reassurance was building inside Matt again, of wanting to make sure nothing had changed. That the shapes and lines and hollows of Dom’s body were still the same, that every hair, every mole was on the same spot. His hands trembled as they lingered over Dom’s skin, fingers spread apart while he continued to plant open mouthed kisses all over his chest, over bruises and dried blood; his heart thumped in his ribcage as he slid lower to his stomach and reached the waistband of his underwear.

It wasn’t enough. There wasn’t enough contact and he scrambled to sit up. He wanted to tear his own clothes off so he could touch him with his whole body. Dom had kneeled at his side while he fumbled with the sleeves of his sweater and helped him pulling it up his torso and over his head, together with the t-shirt underneath. He was staring at his mouth when Matt’s head emerged and immediately cupped the singer’s face between his hands. He opened Matt’s mouth with his, hot and commanding, and Matt melted in his hold as his tongue caressed him like warm velvet, deep and thorough. He tried to respond in kind, but Dom took his wrists and spread their arms wide before interlacing their fingers.

He shuddered when Dom tilted his head to the side to change the angle of the kiss and Matt let go of his hands to slowly let himself drop down on his back with Dom on top of him. They parted to simply gaze at each other, catching their breath, and Matt lifted a hand to stroke the hair off Dom’s forehead. He only sighed and stretched on the floor alongside Matt, laying his head on his chest.

Dropping a kiss on top of his head, Matt slung his arms around him in a loose embrace.

He shuddered when Dom’s fingers brushed over the stab wound scar he’d sustained in Monaco two years before. Scanning the floor to find a tip of the blanket, he felt, before he saw, Dom lifting the dog tag from his chest and turning it over. He scraped at the engraving with a fingernail.

“I've seen this before.”

“It's a desert flower.”

“I mean, I saw it in the place where I was.”

Matt inhaled sharply, but, as much as he craved information about the organisation, it would have to wait a little longer. Rest had priority over that, rest that they both needed and deserved. He grabbed a handful of blanket and pulled it over them, then shifted their positions on the floor until Dom was facing the fire, Matt spooning him from behind.

It didn’t take long until Dom’s even breathing suggested that he had fallen asleep. The fire wouldn’t need more wood any time soon. Going by the now almost quiet hissing from the outside, it seemed that the storm had calmed down somewhat. He pressed himself harder against Dom’s backside and breathed in, the tip of his nose hidden in the hair at the back of his head.

Without knowing what time it was, Matt was nevertheless certain it would be way past midnight. And only then did he dare voicing something which had been on his mind for most of the day.

“Happy birthday, Dom.”

There was a barely perceptible hitch in Dom’s breathing and his body tensed. The first thing that crossed Matt’s mind was that he’d woken him up and he regretted it. But afterwards, he realised how it was very likely that until that very moment, Dom had no idea what day it was.

The full weight of the implication wrapped around them. Dom’s fingers clasped Matt’s tighter against his chest. His whole body trembled slightly when he nodded.

He squeezed Matt’s hand tightly and whispered back, “Thank you.”

After that no more words were spoken and Matt adjusted his position so his head would rest in the nook between Dom’s throat and his shoulder, one leg slung over the other man’s. Their gazes focused on the fire as they both watched the flames in silence, lost in their thoughts and memories.


	6. 006 - Homeward Bound

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy birthday, Dom! It seemed quite fitting to post this today, so we did :D Thankfully, his actual birthday is less adventurous and more cheerful than this one. Nevertheless, we hope you enjoy it :)

_Kazakhstan_

_Monday, 7_ _th_ _December 2015_

_Morning_

 

When Dom woke up in the morning it took his brain a few seconds to catch up with the latest events and remember where he was and why. Exactly _where_ he was, he still didn’t know. But seeing Matt next to him, crouched in front of a warm fire soothed any fears instantly and made all the answers he didn’t know seem significantly less important.

He sat up slowly, wincing as his battered body ached and suppressed a shudder, deciding he would do better by wrapping the blanket around him. He’d do anything for a hot shower.

“Morning. What are you doing?” He leaned his chin on Matt’s shoulder from behind, an arm going around his waist. He could now see two cups next to the fire and furrowed his brow in confusion. “It smells like-“

“- coffee.” Matt turned around with a smile, planting a small kiss on his lips. “Morning.”

There were biscuits, crackers, chocolate, something that looked like cheese spread, jam and other unidentified items on the floor. It felt a bit surreal to see so much food after being imprisoned for so long.

“Where did you get all that?”

“Raided the cabinets. You’d be surprised what can be conserved for years to use.”

Matt offered him one of the cups, which Dom took gratefully. He took a sip, holding it tight with both hands, and closed his eyes with a content smile. It was just cheap coffee flavoured powder dissolved in hot water, but, right in this moment, coffee had never tasted better.

“Did you manage to get some rest?”

Dom nodded, grabbing a pack of biscuits and sat by his side. He wasn’t sure any period with his eyes closed while in captivity could be considered as sleep. Perhaps “passed out” would be a more apt description.

He wanted to ask Matt the same question, but judging by his tired face the answer was obvious. There was a different spark in his eyes, though. He didn’t look like a ghost anymore. Yet, it was obvious that Dom hadn’t been the only one experiencing hell in the past few weeks.

“I found some old clothes,” Matt pointed to a small pile on the side near the fire which looked composed entirely by fur. “There’s a hat and a coat that you can use.”

Dom reached out for the garments, his hand hovering above before he finally touched them. Before all of this had happened, he would have scrunched up his nose at the thought of wearing fur. He'd been an animal rights activist all his life and it would have felt like betraying his beliefs. Now, however, it seemed like that had been a different life. The prospect of possible frostbite or, worse, freezing to death overwrote all disgust and aversion he might have had with the issue.

Next to the clothes he spotted another, smaller pile; an assortment of mainly food and a couple of bottles. It seemed like Matt had already prepared their departure.

“Where are we?” Dom finally asked.

Matt’s expression softened. “Kazakhstan. Central Kazakhstan.”

Dom only nodded. Middle of nowhere. “And nobody knows where we are, I suppose?”

“Don’t worry. All I need is a phone and we’ll get home in no time. I lost mine, but I’m sure we can find one in the village, I saw utility poles.”

“What if they come after us?” He looked down at the cup between his hands. “Did you see what happened to the guys who were with me?”

Matt didn’t reply immediately. He simply reached out for the cup in Dom’s hands and put it on the floor. Sliding an arm around his shoulders, he pulled him closer to his body and caressed Dom’s cheek with his now free hand, his head slightly cocked.

“I will kill anyone who tries to lay a finger on you.”

Dom didn’t even know what to say, a shudder running down his spine. Matt’s face was unreadable, much like it had been the night before, and his voice indicated that he had no problem to make his promise true. Worse, he had the sinister feeling that it had already happened since he’d been gone. How often, he didn’t even want to guess. But right in that moment he could see a glimpse of the killer _they_ wanted the singer to be.

And then, just like that, the feeling was gone and Matt smiled softly, rubbing Dom’s back in reassurance.

“Now get dressed and finish your coffee so we can start moving.”

There were so many questions Dom wanted to ask. About what had happened, who had taken him, how things had developed. At the same time, he felt drained and wanted nothing to do with this anymore. Above all, he craved nothing more than to be home, go back on tour, see friends and family. But he had a feeling it wouldn’t be that easy; he had no doubt Matt would take him home soon, but the return of his mental comfort would take longer than a simple journey back to England.  

He looked out of the window. It still seemed to be an endless canvas of grey, but, thankfully, the sky looked rather peaceful now, without a single falling snowflake in sight. He then looked down at his crotch, his brow creasing in thought.

“So, can you go outside for a piss without getting your dick frozen?”

The corners of Matt’s lips twitched at that.  “Mine’s still perfectly functional.”

They exchanged a look and simply grinned at each other.

***

Stepping out of the hut to finally make their way to the town that Matt had spotted from the helicopter, Dom couldn’t help but stare at their surroundings.

The snowstorm the day before had impaired his senses so much that there had only been a white wall of nothing spreading everywhere he had looked. Now, however, the raging storm had given way to a quiet, snowy landscape, everything covered in a thick, white blanket, with the exception of a frozen lake in the distance that looked completely untouched by man. Lifeless.

“We came from back there, so… uh…”

He looked back to Matt, who was checking out the area for entirely different reasons; apart from the mountains, there was no indication of where they had come from or where they’d be able to find civilisation.

It was almost impossible to spot the lithe body of the singer in the heaps of fur that covered him head to toe. The hat had started to fall over his eyes as soon as he’d put it up and he had to push it back every few seconds. The coat wasn’t much better, there would be enough room to stuff at least two Matts in it.

And yet, the sight made Dom feel a contentment he had thought he’d never feel again.

“Best to go this way then?” he asked and stepped next to the singer, pointing somewhere away from the mountains.

Matt hummed. “Yeah.  The town I saw must be somewhere to the west for sure.”

They trotted in the snow with effort. Snowflakes started falling, but, luckily, the wind was tame and didn’t pose a problem. Still, Dom was thankful that he wore the boots after all. If he’d been reluctant before, now the padded fur turned out to be a blessing that protected his feet and shins. He didn’t need a reminder of how painful yesterday’s battle against the cold had been, a shudder instinctively running down his spine, and he rubbed his gloved hands together.

“Dom, look!”

The singer excitedly pulled on Dom’s sleeve and pointed to something ahead of them. There were car tracks edged into the snow next to what appeared like a wooden pole. Both men picked up speed to reach their findings and Dom almost tripped when he stepped onto the tracks, a film of ice making them slippery. Matt was a bit more gracious and slid across the ice to the wooden pole, standing on his toes to push the snow away from the two small pieces sticking out to both sides. They were shaped like small arrows and what appeared like Cyrillic writing edged into it.

“So we either go left or right, huh?” Dom said thoughtfully and pressed his hand against his chin. “If it’s the wrong way we can always turn back, right?”

“Unless we run into another blizzard.” Matt directed his eyes towards the sky. It was only a matter of time until the weather changed for the worse again.

Dom was about to reply when they heard the rumbling of an engine. They both whirled around to spot the origin of the sound. There, in the distance, was a black jeep crossing the snow, heading towards their destination.

Dom’s instinctive reaction was to hide from the potential danger, but there was nothing around them except snow and ice. The panic that rose in him at the mere prospect of being defenceless rendered him immobile. Fingers clawing around Matt’s wrist in a death grip, all he could do was stare at the singer helplessly.

Matt, on the other hand, immediately took to action and pushed the blond behind him, but he remained where he was. Standing in the middle of what the road must have been, he watched the car getting closer to them, and reached inside his pocket to have one hand on the gun.

The car came to a shrieking halt in front of them, the headlights illuminating their coats, and the driver’s door opened to a tall man in a jacket that looked too thin for the weather, shouting expletives that Dom didn’t understand at them. The driver approached them with heavy steps, and Dom leaned against Matt involuntarily, squeezing his eyes shut. He felt like he was going to pass out any moment.

But then Matt spoke up, soft and quiet, and even though Dom didn’t know any Russian and couldn’t understand a single word of what he was saying, it felt strangely soothing. The Kazakh replied in a much softer voice as well and it sounded more curious than aggressive now. He actually dared to look up just in time to see the other man laugh and motion to his jeep.

“He’ll take us to the next town,“ Matt explained softly and Dom’s grip on him slowly receded.

He followed Matt’s steps and instructions subdued, not particularly confident yet, and squeezed into the passenger seat after Matt had gotten in, sharing the spot that was usually only suited for one person.

Their supposedly saviour prattled on and spoke to them throughout the ride and Matt only occasionally commented on it, but it seemed to please the other man nonetheless. He was probably happy to have some company on his ride.

Dom, on the other hand, just stared out of the window and watched the scenery pass by. He already felt tired again after such a short time. It dawned on him that it wasn’t physical exhaustion that was plaguing him, but more the panic attack that he’d just avoided.

He closed his eyes and listened to the voice of their driver, felt Matt’s body pressed against his side and inhaled the weird smell of cedar wood from the air freshener. And breathed out.  


 

_15:13_

 

Matt sighed yet again and pressed his chin more forcefully on his hand in an attempt to relieve some tension before he looked down at his new phone to idly thumb the screen. He was currently seated in the dining car of a far too luxurious train, given the area they were travelling through, the drink in front of him half full. The scenery the train was slowly passing by was beautiful and breathtaking, but he couldn’t really keep his mind on it.

Dom was taking forever, and it made him anxious.

Things had moved rapidly after a phone call to M and they hadn’t had to wait for long until they had been met by an agent affiliated with the MI6. Matt had immediately assumed that M must have found out about his whereabouts before and had sent in troops to pick him up, but the agent had made no move whatsoever.

Instead, they simply had been handed a suitcase full of items that would ensure their safe travel to the United Kingdom – first and foremost fake diplomatic passports. The tickets they had received were for a train that would take them to Ukraine, where they’d then board a plane straight to London and finally home.

Home.

The thought still felt weird to Matt. He’d already made preparations to never return and leave everything behind, if he even made it back out alive of his suicidal mission. There would be consequences to live with from all sides, he was sure of it, but he could admit that he didn’t feel any remorse; he’d do it all again if he had to. He’d kill hundreds and thousands more if it meant that he could starch the raging flame of vengeance in his heart once again, no matter if it got him Dom back.

That was one of the consequences, he reckoned. His lack of empathy towards those that had died at his hands. Of course he’d killed for the MI6 before, but he was aware on some level that he’d taken something precious from someone – a friend, a family member, a loved one – no matter how awful the person had been. With losing Dom that had changed; what did someone else’s pain matter to him when he himself had to live for the rest of his life without his soulmate?

He rubbed the back of his neck. It would be easy to blame it all on the doctor and his disgusting experiments, blame it on him undergoing brainwashing and becoming a drone. But deep down, Matt knew that it had nothing to do with it and that it was all on himself.

And yet, after all the numbness and ruthlessness he’d shown, he’d been unable to pull the trigger in the woods. His hands trembled at the memory, remembering Dom’s dejected face as he looked into the barrel of the gun to await his end.

He would never be able to go through with it. Not then, not ever. It didn’t matter if it was an impostor in front of him; even the notion of Dom’s face crumbling in front of him and his eyes losing their light made him feel sick to his stomach.

A look at the screen of his phone let him know that Dom had been gone to get himself changed and washed for more than half an hour already and he rubbed the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes for a moment before he directed them outside again to distract himself with the view.

What Dom had gone through was still a mystery to him. Now that the first shock had passed there were many questions that needed to be answered. He wanted to needle Dom to find out everything that could be important, but he knew this was not the time or place for it. Dom had gone through hell, that much he had gathered already, and it would be cruel to have him relive all of it so soon. But at the same time he needed to find out what they’d done. They could submitted him to the same procedure they had done to Matt or something entirely different, and there was the fear in Matt that he could still lose him. There had been no signs of surgical procedures on the other man’s body, of that he was sure, but that didn’t mean that there had been no brainwashing done; Sigismondi himself had told him that they usually used other means to achieve their goal.

His left hand balled to a fist unconsciously. He’d make sure to keep a close eye on Dom and protect him from anyone if the need arose, no matter if they were foe or friend.

He could feel a new presence entering the carriage and his eyes raised up automatically to scan the new arrival. Almost knocking over the glass of vodka in front of him, he did a double take at the sight he was met with.

It was Dom who had entered and he looked as if he had just jumped straight out of a magazine. Tight black skinny jeans, a white top with a geometrical pattern and a thick black leather jacket… He might as well have been on the way to a photoshoot for a new album or a date. But it was his face that Matt was immediately drawn to; the drummer had taken the time to shave and freshen himself up properly and he looked so young and innocent that it took Matt’s breath away. Of course, he already knew that it had been Dom by his side last night and this morning, but in that precise moment it _truly_ sunk in that it was indeed Dom going home with him, not a hallucination or a stranger.  

“I’m sorry I took so long,” Dom apologised when he finally slid into the booth opposite of Matt’s. “I felt all filthy and… Yeah. I suppose I needed to recognise myself in the mirror. Not perfect, but this will have to do until I can actually-”

“You look amazing.”

Dom stopped and simply stared at Matt, warmth creeping up his neck at the unexpected compliment.

“Thank you,” he whispered shyly and looked down. It wasn’t the first time Matt had praised him, far from it, but for some reason this time it touched him on a far deeper level.

Matt himself looked much better, too. He’d changed into a dark blue shirt that brought out the colour of his eyes, sleeves already rolled up, and dark trousers. He hadn’t shaved like Dom had, so he still sported some stubble, but it was a look that Dom approved of. Most of all, he seemed much more settled and stared at Dom as if he was seeing him for the first time in his life, a slight blush to his cheeks. This was the Matt he loved, the man he knew, such a stark contrast to their encounter back in the woods.

He inwardly shuddered at the memory. Dom was sure that for as long as he lived he would never forget the moment when Matt had shown up and saved him, armed and exuding a determination that spoke of a man who wouldn’t let anything get in the way of his mission. Dom had imagined it - desperately wished it to happen - so many times in his dreams and in delirious desperation while he had been a prisoner in that hell hole, that at first he had felt as if the whole thing might as well have been a mirage.

And now he was going back home. An unexpected pang of sorrow came with the prospect.

“What is it?”

Matt’s soft voice shook him out of his reverie and he realised the singer’s face had fallen a little.

He sighed. “I was just thinking about home and… My mum. Does she.. Does she think I’m… dead?”

Matt fidgeted and looked out of the window.

The thought of how much pain his predicament must have caused his family was unbearable to Dom and he swallowed thickly.

“How did they… Are they okay?”

Matt straightened in his seat now, but he still refused to look at him, his gaze focused somewhere outside in the landscape.

“I’m not sure, I… Chris talked to your mum. And Emma.” In the reflection of the window Dom could see that Matt had turned his eyes downward. “I didn’t... I was a coward and couldn’t face anyone after what had happened.”

Dom realised Matt’s discomfort was nothing more than shame over his actions. But he couldn’t blame him.

The singer reached out for the drink in front of him shakily and Dom gently, without a word, laid a hand on top of Matt’s before he could raise the glass to his lips. The muscles under his fingertips moved and twitched and Dom anxiously steeled himself for a sharp rebuttal. He didn’t know what had happened in the time he’d been gone, but going by the amount he’d seen Matt drink in the last twenty or so hours alone it was clear to him it couldn’t be very healthy.

But Matt stared back blankly and no protest came. His fingers slacked around the glass before he removed them entirely. Instead, he held Dom’s hand and the drummer couldn’t help but smile a little, his thumb brushing over his skin. Matt squeezed back.

“And Chris? How is he?” Dom continued.

The singer cleared his throat. “Coping better than me.”

“So he’s not… You know?” Eyes falling to the glass between them, it was enough to fill in the blanks in Dom’s statement.

“No. No, I don’t think so. He’s trying to focus on doing the right things,” Matt said softly. He couldn’t really know, seeing as he hadn’t cared at the time. But now, he felt guilty at the thought of never enquiring about his best friend’s well-being. “I was a right cunt to him the last time we spoke.”

“Did you-”

Matt missed entirely what Dom said afterwards. Someone else had entered the carriage and his hairs stood on end in a completely different manner than when Dom had returned.

The man was at least twice Matt’s size, wearing a black uniform with small silver stripes on the sleeve of his right upper arm. The beard he was sporting was quite prominent and distracted them from the cold and empty eyes.

He was taking a good look at the passengers he passed, his eyes boring into their faces as if he needed to know every single feature to run them through a catalogue. Matt’s eyes turned to slits.

“Matt-”

“There’s someone checking out the passengers.“

“What?”

Dom turned around carefully to see who Matt meant. But as soon as he spotted the tall, bulky man his head snapped to the other side, his cheek pressing into the fabric of his jacket in an attempt to hide his face.

“I know him,” he whispered nervously. He didn’t need to elaborate where he had met him, Matt knew instantly. “They’re looking for me.”

Matt watched as the stranger leaned on the bar, scanning the faces of those mingling in the same spot. If he advanced a couple of steps further, he’d be able to see their table and inevitably spot Dom.

They were in a fast moving train with nowhere to run, the next stop still quite some distance ahead. He patted his jacket that was laid out on the seat next to his to feel the gun hidden underneath the fabric.

He wanted to bring Dom home, not throw him into another predicament. They might be shielded by the diplomatic passports they carried, but there was only so much fuss he could make on a train full of civilians.

Maybe they could buy some time until they arrived at the station. It seemed like the organisation wanted to keep this under wraps as much as possible, otherwise they could have simply stormed the train – they had enough men to do so for sure.

Their eyes met and Matt could have sworn that there had been a slight twitch in the other man’s brow as if he’d recognised him from somewhere. The soldier’s demeanour changed and he raised himself back to full height before he directed his steps towards their table.

“Come on,” Matt whispered and grabbed Dom’s arm gently, pulling him from his seat in front of him and towards the exit of the carriage, grabbing his jacket with the other hand. “And don’t look back.”

It was difficult to follow Matt’s order as Dom could feel the predatory gaze burning into his back. He still remembered the brutality of the man’s actions when they had been led to the slave train and he didn’t want to experience it himself… or let him hurt Matt.

They walked rather slowly at first and their pursuer did the same. It seemed that none of them wanted to attract any attention. But they were soon striding down the corridor and pushing past some passengers standing directly in the aisle. It was that moment that Dom couldn’t suppress his anxiety anymore and looked behind him, his gaze landing on the dark eyes that immediately focused onto him.  

“Matt-”

“Keep walking.”

But now that their hunter had seen Dom’s face it seemed like his plan changed and the bulky man picked up speed to catch up with them. Matt reacted immediately and started running. He barely had the time to snatch the gun as his jacket fell to the floor when he pushed Dom’s back, the drummer almost stumbling at the change of pace.

They crossed into the next carriage and this one no longer had rows of seats but was divided in compartments framed by colourful wood and a slightly tinted window each. There were less passengers to dodge in the long corridor adjacent to the windows, those in the way still staring in confusion or irritation but otherwise not bothering with them.

Dom pushed open the door at the other end and they reached one final carriage. They ran to the end to find the door locked. Looking out of the window they were met with a view of snow and train tracks that they were leaving behind.

“Shit,” Matt swore under his breath.

The soldier that had hunted them down was now slowly advancing on them.

Matt glanced inside the closest compartment through the glass pane, where three teenagers lounged. They had run out of options. He slid the door open with a shove, stepping in and pulling Dom with him, and garnered the attention of the passengers inside immediately.

He pulled out his gun and the sight was enough to visibly cause panic.

“Get out!” He motioned with his head while pointing the gun down the aisle. “Now!”

They might not have understood his words but the message was clear enough that they scrambled up to flee the compartment. Matt slammed the door with a bang behind them, locking it just as their stalker bumped into it.

“Check the windows!” he barked to Dom and stepped back from the door just as a punch landed on the glass.

Matt immediately raised the gun and pulled the trigger, shooting at their opponent through the glass and shattering most of the pane to pieces. Passengers nearby screamed and they could hear people running, but the bulky body went down and out of sight, shielded by the wood of the door.

Matt panted and waited a beat before he lowered the gun cautiously, the grip on it still tight. The air was filled only with the rattling of the train rolling along the tracks.

“Did you get him?” Dom breathed.

Matt gritted his teeth and slowly reached out for the handle of the door.

Out of nowhere, the bearded face was back in his line of vision, staring at him from the other side of the partly destroyed glass pane with a ferocious grin. The door was savagely yanked off its hinges as if it were mere paper. Matt stumbled back against Dom to avoid being hit with it, but he wasn’t quick enough to raise the gun again and fire before the other man made his move.

The backhanded slap threw him against the seat on the opposite side and he dropped the gun, momentarily stunned. He was lifted and hurled against the wooden frame of the compartment, and crashed through it, his back and the splinters hitting the carpeted floor of the aisle.

Then, their attacker zeroed in on Dom who’d just scrambled to make a grab for the gun. The drummer groaned painfully when he was grabbed by his hair, his head pushed against the window and the gun once again fell out of reach. Still seeing stars and thus unable to react, he couldn’t do anything when his body was held to be carried out.

But Matt was back in the fight in an instant, jumping at the other man from behind and winding his arms around his neck and his legs around his waist, which prompted him to drop Dom. Unable to get a proper grab at the singer, the soldier stepped backwards out of the compartment, the wooden splinters crunching under his feet, and pushed his back, and with it Matt, against the wall of the aisle. The singer grunted, but didn’t let go, even when his body hit the wall again more forcefully. He blindly reached out, his fingers closing around a piece of wood and he pulled at it, swinging it into the other man’s face. The brute cried out in pain and whirled around erratically before he finally managed to get a hold on Matt and threw him over his shoulder into the aisle.

Just in that moment Dom managed to pull himself up and made his move, but their opponent was punching around aimlessly now, hitting him square in the face so hard that he flew back into the compartment, his shoulder impacting painfully with the floor.

Matt winced and braced himself on his elbows, trying to collect his strength. He looked up and managed to get a glimpse of the brute’s angry face while he was punching a new hole into the train’s wall. The wood had not only damaged him; a splinter had actually lodged itself where his left eye used to be, the blood oozing from the remains.

Eyes scanning the area for anything usable, Matt spotted the gun lying not too far away from him. He crawled over and grabbed it, rolling over to get a better chance for a shot. He aimed at the soldier’s back, but then realised that there were small cracks in the window behind him, probably from when Dom was pushed against it.

“Dom! The window!”

The gunshot echoed through the carriage, the bullet passing the tall, broad target to instead hit the glass. The hole of the bullet was easily visible and the glass around it cracked even more, ready to shatter any moment.

Dom looked up to see small shards falling, but another noise made him look straight ahead to see their enemy advancing on him. On instinct he braced his legs and rolled onto his back, his feet rising just in time to hit the soldier pouncing on him. He rolled backwards, the momentum giving him enough energy to lift the body and kick it over himself, where it crashed against the already damaged window, which finally gave way. Their enemy fell straight through and was out of sight before he even hit the ground beside the train tracks.

Dom breathed heavily when he raised himself onto his shins. A hand was suddenly in his vision and he looked up to see Matt staring down at him and breathing just as hard, his eyes wild. He grabbed the hand and pulled himself onto his feet, where he stood with Matt almost nose to nose, their eyes locked and both quiet for a long minute.

Finally, he broke the silence, his voice still shaking from the events. “Nice shot.”

“Nice kick,” Matt retorted, nodding.

They stayed serious for just a few seconds more before both burst out laughing at the same time. They fell into each other’s arms, the adrenaline coursing through their bodies making them feel giddy.

A hand touched Matt’s shoulder and made him spin around immediately, but it was just an elderly man speaking in fast Russian to him. He nodded his head reflexively at the question if they were alright.

Adrenaline leaving as quickly as it had come, he took a step back and leaned against the wooden wall of the carriage, reaching for Dom, who was being taken care of by a young woman that guided him to one of the seats with soft, careful touches.

Their eyes met for another brief moment before a flurry of people joined them.

  


_Surrey, United Kingdom_

_Tuesday, 8_ _th_ _December 2015_

_03:19_

 

Turning another page of his book, Chris sighed before he took off his reading glasses and rubbed at his tired eyes.

Sleep was eluding him. Again.

It had been difficult to find rest for a while now, but the closer the calendar had crawled to a certain date, the harder it had become. Birthdays and festivities were always the hardest when you were missing someone.

He gazed out of the window and watched the soft white flakes that were slowly falling from the sky. It had been a while since London had seen snow. He missed spending time with his family outside to build snowmen or fight fierce snowball battles. Come to think of it, it would be Kevin’s first time too. He’d definitely get the family out tomorrow morning for an impromptu snow session.

Soft fingertips touched his shoulder and he turned around to see Kelly standing next to him, looking down at him with a smile. He smiled back self-consciously, knowing fully well it amused her that he hadn’t heard her come in.

“Can’t sleep?” she asked softly and kissed his temple.

He shrugged in reply and looked down at the book in his lap. “It’s his birthday.”

She didn’t reply. Of course she was just as aware of the fact, they all were. It had been the first birthday that they hadn’t spent driving to London or making phone calls at the most bizarre times of the day.

“Snow’s looking lovely tonight,” she replied instead and looked outside, Chris following suit.

“I was just thinking the same thing before you came in. Would be nice to spend a day out tomorrow, just the kids and us.”

“I’d love that.”

They watched the snow in silence, Kelly’s hand on Chris’ shoulder and his hand on hers, caressing it lightly. Moments like these helped him, rooted him in his life, even if it was absolute chaos. A reminder that he wasn’t alone and didn’t need to go back to his old habits.

“I think I’m gonna go back to bed,” she said after a while. “Don’t stay up too long, okay?”

“I’ll be with you in a few minutes. Just gonna finish this chapter.”

She nodded and retracted her hand before she left him alone again, and Chris turned back to his book.

It took him almost half an hour to finish the few pages that he had left, his mind drifting to other thoughts once in a while and making him re-read the passages. He couldn’t help the sigh escaping his lips when he found the chapter divider and put the bookmark in between the pages before he closed the book.

He was just about to put it on the small side table when the cushion next to him vibrated. He jerked and almost knocked over the table lamp. He patted around for a moment before he finally found the phone, squinting at the screen to see who was calling him at the time. It was an unknown number. Something in the pit of his stomach dropped and he swallowed; phone calls from unknown numbers never meant anything good, especially at this time of the night. Nevertheless, he picked up the call and pressed the device to his ear.

“Hello?”

“ _Chris, it’s me._ ”

A mix of fear and anger flooded him at the sound of Matt’s voice, but above all, he was just relieved to have a sign of life.

“Matt! For fuck’s sake, where have you been? I was worried about you.”

The other man cleared his throat uncomfortably. “ _Yeah, sorry about that. Truly. But I had my reasons. I have-_ “

“Are you back? Have you found him?”

There was a stunned silence at the other end of the line and, under different circumstances, Chris would have laughed at the fact that for once he’d managed to shut Matt Bellamy up. At the same time, he felt bad for suggesting the mere possibility. Maybe Matt hadn’t known anything after all and had just gone on a suicide mission in an attempt to avenge his best friend.

When the singer hadn’t replied for what felt like an eternity, Chris asked, “Matt?”

“ _Wanna come outside?_ ”

“Now? Are you here? “ It was Chris’ moment to be stunned.

“ _Yes… Yes, we are._ ”

He was up and in the hallway before Matt had even finished the sentence. Coat and shoes of no importance right now, he strode to the door and pulled it open with full force, the cold air and snowflakes hitting his face.

But all of it was forgotten at the sight he was met with; of Matt standing in front of him in a black, thick coat, a sheepish grin on his face and his eyes slightly crinkled – so much more like the Matt he used to know for so many years. But right behind him, in an equally thick coat was Dom – wonderful, beautiful Dom – unusually pale and unkempt, but oh so _alive_.

One big step and Chris’ arms reached out for the drummer, pulling him close to his body and hugging him so tight that he might as well have broken some bones. He didn’t care.

“You fucking twat,” he whispered, not even caring about the fact that his voice was breaking at the end.

He could feel Dom smiling against his chest. “Hello to you, too.”

Chris looked to the side to see Matt smiling at the two of them and reached out, pulling the singer into the bear hug as well. It was surreal to think things could go back to normalcy. Most importantly, it was impossible to imagine that they were all alive and well.

“I missed you two idiots so much,” he whispered, cold puffs of air blowing between them.

Dom’s mouth twitched and he looked down at the snow covered marble under his feet. “I’m sorry I made you worry.”

“Doesn’t matter. You’re here.”

“We all are.”

Chris nodded and squeezed Matt’s shoulder before he pulled both of them even closer. It was weird to stand on your front porch with two other men in a tight hug, only wearing jogging pants and a reindeer patterned sweater. But right in this moment he’d even run around the neighbourhood stark naked if it meant that he’d get to keep his two best friends.

They had no idea how long they had stayed in the embrace until Matt sneezed. They all laughed and untangled themselves, Chris taking the time to push some of the snow off Dom’s head.

“See,” the drummer chuckled.  “This is how you do reunions right.”

Matt scowled at that and crossed his arms. “Fuck off.”

It made Chris laugh for some reason. He didn’t know what they were on about, but just hearing the two of them bicker again made the weight around his heart feel lighter.

“Come on, let’s get inside,” he finally said and turned around with the two of them, putting his arms on his friend’s shoulders. “I need to know everything.”

They both nodded in unison and pulled one arm each around their friend’s waist.

When the three of them walked inside and closed the door behind them, laughter was the last thing that interrupted the quiet winter night.

 


	7. 007 - Significance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year to you all! What better time to start with part 2 of ZMT than the beginning of the year? ;)

_ Zurich, Switzerland _

_ Friday, 13 _ _ th _ _ May 2016 _

_ 01:02 _

 

It had been a good couple of gigs in Switzerland, everyone agreed. Good sets, good crowds, plenty of energy and only a couple of malfunctioning drones. Next stop: Milan. And soon another leg of their titanic  _ Drones  _ tour would be concluded.

When they had embarked on this journey six months ago, the catastrophic start had led everyone to believe that the biggest show they’d ever produced would never take off. Not this one, not any other for Muse ever again. But Dom had returned and with him the spirit. And after a break, the planned schedule had been resumed. 

The technical problems born out of the complex stage that had riddled them for several stops in the US had disguised how utterly unprepared they had been and how every night had been a battle uphill that they had to face together. And yet, against all odds, here they were, chilling out at the bar of their hotel in Zurich, with a panoramic view to the Limmat river - after a total of thirty-five successful gigs in Europe.

Lounging near one of the booths were Dom, Morgan and Tom, drinking and chatting animatedly with a group of beautiful Swiss girls who had attended the gig tonight. In another corner, the rest of the gang was also having a drink, accompanied by a rowdy discussion about football. Indifferent to the topic, Matt opted to sip on his glass of wine and check his phone, discreetly glancing to the side when high pitched giggles emanated from the nearby table. The blond drummer had thrown his head back in laughter, the girls clinging onto each other as they bent at the waist for the same reason. Morgan and Tom clinked their glasses, toasting to whatever joke they’d made. Matt couldn’t stop the smile that formed on his lips.

As the minutes passed by the patrons began to head off to the exit. Soon there was only Dom, cigarette lit between his fingers, in deep conversation with the same group of girls, and Matt and Chris, who had been joined by Tom, at the other table. When Dom bid his goodbyes to the female fans and made to stand up, he swayed on his feet. Immediately, one hand came out of the shadows to grab his shoulder and steady him. Dom thanked the taller figure and motioned he was fine. When he turned and faced his bandmates, though, he was rolling his eyes to the back of his head in annoyance before he dragged his feet over to where they were sitting.

“Alright, Dom?” Tom smiled and got up to ruffle the other man’s once again blond hair. “Need to be put to bed? Not that I wanna take over anyone else’s duties, let that be clear.”

“Lovely girls,” the drummer in question commented instead and ignored the other man’s jibe, waving again as they walked by. Clearly, they were not interested in staying any longer now that they had lost their host for the night.

Tom grinned. “Yes, they seemed very interested in your… biceps.” 

“That’s because he spends more time at the gym than with me.” Matt pouted. 

“What are you talking about, I’m with you the whole fucking day. You’re a fucking nuisance.” Dom sighed dramatically and turned to him. “I’m off to bed. You’re staying?”

“Just a little longer.” Matt stroked the back of his leg affectionately. “I’ll be right out.”

Dom nodded and patted Matt’s shoulder before he walked away, flanked by the two men who were on duty that night. Batting away one of their hands when he tripped on the step leading to the hall, his complaint that he didn’t need babysitting could be heard by the trio at the table. They laughed in unison.

“Gentlemen, I’m leaving too,” Tom announced. “Maybe I’ll try to catch up with Dom before he beats up one of his own bodyguards.”

Now Matt and Chris were the only ones left in the bar, sitting in silence with their drinks still to finish. The soft music playing through the bar’s speakers seemed louder now that the place was empty.  

The bassist turned to Matt and leaned back in the booth. 

“He’s better, isn’t he? It’s been almost six months. What do you reckon?”

“Yeah. Today was good.” The singer couldn’t keep the content smile from his face. “These things take time, you know that better than anyone. But I think It’s going well, he’s not due for another therapy session until next month.”

“Has he asked about anything? The case?”

He shook his head. “He knows I haven’t stopped working on it, but he’s still the same; he doesn’t really want to get involved. And I’m hoping it stays that way. But he’s going to be the first one to know once we nail those cunts.”

Chris took another sip of his non-alcoholic beer. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Are you okay?”

Matt inhaled deeply and took his time to reply. He leant forward, elbows on the table, without facing Chris. “What do you think?”

Chris pondered the question for a moment. 

“I think you’re more stable than I’ve seen you in a long time. Not rock solid, but you’re getting there.” He eyed the singer. “But you also cover up better than anyone I've ever known.”

Matt leaned back again and stared at Chris in the eye. “I can’t hide anything from you anymore, you know that.”

They continued to drink in companionship, enjoying the quiet inside the bar but also the calm coming from outside. Only a group of young men were visible on one of the bridges, playing with a drone that was flying above the river. Chris lifted his bottle and pointed outside with it.

“Last time we were here-“

“Yeah, I remember.” 

How could Matt not? It had been the day he was forced to reveal the other half of his life he had kept secret for so long to his two oldest friends. He cupped his jaw where Dom had punched him unconsciously. That night remained one of the most difficult moments of his life. 

“A boat ride will never be the same.” Chris snorted at the memory of the wild chase on the river that still seemed extracted out of a page in someone else's life. “The shock was so extreme, it took the whole night for the anger to manifest.” He considered how many things had changed since then. “Are you ever going back?”

“I don't know,” Matt admitted, knowing exactly what Chris was talking about. “I still don't have clearance from the therapist. She’s full of shit. Brain activity is back to normal, she says, the symptoms are all gone, only some residual light headaches, but I haven’t had one in weeks... But she still wants to wait, and her report is gonna make all the difference. And M and the Foreign Secretary aren't exactly rushing me to return either.”

“Can’t blame them, really. Find it hard to believe they'd really believe you're happy with this break, though.”

“Chris, I  _ am _ happy to take a break. I'm just not taking a break from the important things. And M knows me well enough to suspect something, but as long as we are both playing the same game… She'll never allow me to be back on this operation anyway.”

“Can’t say I’m not relieved about that, as much as it pains me to admit that you went further on your own in a couple of weeks than they did in almost six bloody months. I suppose there's still no progress.” Chris motioned questioningly with his chin to his phone. “You’ve been at it all night.”

Matt bit his lip. “I’ve been trying to get intelligence through Jackson’s acquaintances.”

“The CIA guy who was in it and then killed the doctor?”

“And killed himself in front of me too. Yes, that one. I’m looking for any clue on who might have turned him or where. Or when. I don’t know what’s going on with the American intelligence, but from what I’ve heard they’re blocking us for no reason. I’m not entirely convinced the MI6 managed a thorough investigation on Jackson.” He pondered whether to continue or not, but decided there was no point in keeping it from the bassist. “Someone got in touch with me and offered a meeting to share information. In Vienna, three days ago. But that never happened, they didn’t show up.”

Chris’ eyes widened and he rubbed his chin in sudden nervousness. “Wait, hold on. Matt, you wanted to meet some geezer face to face-”

“They knew who I am.” Matt looked at him with utmost seriousness. “I was using an alias and they got in touch and knew exactly who I was. Both my real name and my codename at the MI6. Must be someone who was part of Sigismondi’s team.”

There was a whistle of amazement from Chris, a nod acknowledging the importance of this development. “But what if it’s, I don’t know, a trap? Why does it have to be a meet up in person?”

“Don’t worry with that, I know what I’m doing. I’m more afraid this is only some ploy to distract me from another lead. But it’s a risk I have to take if I want to get more information. They stopped replying to my messages anyway.” Matt sighed, playing with a wet napkin on the table. “My other contacts haven’t really delivered anything meaty. Just the usual scraps. As far as I know, the Service is now following a dead end, but-”

“- you can’t tell M, ‘cos then she’d know you’ve been doing shit behind her back.”

Matt shrugged. M could easily guess that he was doing things on his own because she knew very well he didn’t like to leave loose ends. He’d already abandoned everything in Kazakhstan although he’d had the chance to get to the core of this. But then again, he’d gotten Dom back - and every trade off that that was a good one. Still…

“They're out there, Chris… They're still out there, plotting whatever it is they’re aiming for. They have a goal, something big, and I'm not going to give up until they are stopped.”

Chris laid a hand on his band mate's back. “Noble cause I support for all the right reasons. But let’s just make sure we finish this tour too, alright?”

“Fucking stage cost a bloody fortune and most of the drones are finally working now.” The singer took a final swig from his glass. “I'll be damned if we don't see the end of this tour.” 

  
  
  


_ Lake Como, Italy _

_ Monday, 16 _ _ th _ _ May 2016 _

_ 19:27 _

 

Matt stared out of the balcony of his suite, elbows propped on the stone balustrade and mobile pressed against his ear while he listened only half attentively to the real estate agent calling from Los Angeles. Spread out to the sides and around the back of the elegant main building of the hotel were the Renaissance inspired gardens, while to the front the floating pool shone in the sun, in the shores of the expansive beauty of Lake Como.  

Below, on the terrace, he could see his mother Marylin sitting with her sunglasses on and a glass of mineral water in her hand, focused on her book. As if sensing he was observing her, she chose that moment to adjust her hat and look up at him with a smile. She waved and Matt waved back, and then returned her attention to the book.

Approaching from the side, Dom and his mother Chris strolled leisurely side by side with their arms linked, followed at a respectful distance by one member of their security staff. 

“ _ So what do you think? Can I tell the owner we’re ready to make that advance payment? _ ”

Matt pushed his thumb and forefinger under his sunglasses and rubbed at his closed eyes. When he opened them again he caught a flash from some point on the far road and he sighed. The chances a paparazzo had just snapped a shot or several of him were quite high. Most likely for one of the local newspapers.

“Can you send me the full proposal, complete with the refurbishment plans, and I’ll get back to you later?” 

There was a hint of disappointment in the real estate agent’s voice, but he obliged straight away, offering to clarify any doubts he’d have, as per protocol. 

When Matt disconnected the call and looked at the screen, he was reminded of the obscene amount of unread messages he still had after ignoring his phone for a couple of hours in favour of a boat ride. He swiped the notifications away without paying them any more attention. 

Below in the gardens, Dom and his mother now faced each other as they chatted about something Matt couldn’t quite catch. She took a hand to his hair and fixed a stray lock before he leaned down to place a kiss on her temple. They went different ways afterwards, Dom’s mother joining Marilyn and the drummer walking towards the dock, hands in the pockets of his tight black skinnies. 

As if it was the sign for him to move, Matt slipped the iPhone in the pocket of his shorts and pivoted on the spot, heading out. 

When he reached the grounds, he instantly located Dom sitting on one of the white wooden benches with his eyes closed. He pulled out his phone again and, when he was close enough for the angle he wanted, he took a picture. 

“Is that for the fans?” 

“No,” Matt said. “This one’s for me.” 

He saw the smile forming on Dom’s lips and sat down next to him. 

“Thought you hadn’t seen me.”

Dom opened one eye to peek at Matt. “You’re not as good as you think you are.” 

He scooted closer to Matt until their thighs were touching and Matt spread an arm along the back of the bench behind Dom. Soon summer would arrive and the lake and the surrounding area would be filled with boats and tourists. For now, though, the waters were still calm and peaceful. 

It wouldn’t be long until sunset despite the late of the hour, the long days characteristic of the month of May, and the surface of the water shone with different shades of red and orange highlights. 

“I miss this place,” Dom confessed suddenly.

Matt knew that - which was the reason why he had suggested they’d spend a day there between the Milan gigs in the first place, under the excuse of taking the mums for a short trip. 

“The good parts were alright,” he admitted. But it was a period of his life that was long gone and he never lingered too much in the past. It was always the present and, more importantly, the future which he dwelled on. “We can come back this week, if you want.”

“Thanks for bringing me here.” Dom glanced back to where his mother sat with Matt’s. ”Thanks for bringing  _ us  _ here. And for everything you’ve done and the patience and... I haven’t said it enough.”

“There’s nothing to be said.”

“Bullshit.” He crossed his arms tightly in front of his chest and Matt braced himself. “You feel guilty every time you look at me. Don’t pretend it isn’t true, I’m not stupid. You’re trying to make it up to me constantly for something you’re not responsible for. And then  _ I _ feel guilty for making  _ you  _ feel like that.”

Matt had expected another outburst from Dom, or at least something worse than what had been thrown his way. In the past few months he had been the prime target of hollow anger and radical mood swings. The self discipline he’d had to impose to be able to deal with it was something that at first he hadn’t been confident he had in him, after all the hurdles they’d already taken. But among the wreck, he had found the strength they needed and clung to it for Dom’s sake. 

He counted to three in his head before he allowed himself to reply. 

“Nothing I do in regards to you has anything to do with guilt. When it comes to you, everything I do is because-”

“I used to be better at this.” Dom looked down and continued as if he hadn’t heard Matt speaking. “At dealing with things. With you. Everything still feels… disjointed. I just want everything to go back to normal.”

“And it will. You’re doing so well, Dom,” Matt said softly. 

“What if it doesn’t? I get nervous at the same things. I can’t sleep if I reduce the meds. Feels like I’ve hit a wall these days and can’t progress or move on at all.”

“You’re too hard on yourself. It’s only been a few months and you went through a lot, Dom.” He wanted to say  _ hell _ , but figured he didn’t really need to elaborate. “It takes time.” 

“Easy for you to say. I’m so tired of the pitiful looks everyone’s giving me. I know they do, even if they try to hide it. Especially Chris, for fuck’s sake.“

“It takes time, you and I both know that,” Matt repeated slowly before he considered his words. “And nobody is pitying you, quite the contrary. You jumped back into your normal life without holding back. Do you realise how difficult that is? It takes balls. Not many people would be able to accomplish that. The rest will come. I know this is completely weird coming from me, but give it time and patience. Failures or stagnation are bound to happen. You’re just human, after all. But we’re on the right track.” 

There was no reply, Dom only chewed  his lower lip. At last, he disentangled his arms and took a deep breath. Matt smiled. 

“How about that selfie for the fans?”

Dom nodded hesitantly. “Yeah. That’d be good.” 

He reached out for his phone and passed it to Matt. 

“Why don’t you sit on that bench near the handrail so I can get the lake in?”

Pose made, picture taken and the phone was returned to its owner. While Dom wrote the caption, Matt checked his own phone quickly. He froze when he saw the most recent notification.   
  


_ Apologies for missing our meeting, I was detained.  _

_ Still interested in information about Blue Scorpion? Tomorrow at café  _ Cinc _ , midnight.  _

 

By his side, Dom reached around to put the phone in the back pocket of his trousers. Matt swiped away the message and turned to him with a smile. 

“Dinner?”

  
  
  


_ Milan, Italy _

_ Tuesday, 17 _ _ th _ _ May 2016 _

_ 23:55 _

 

Checking the GPS on his phone again, Matt took a left turn from Via Fiori Chiari into a smaller street to reach his destination, which was only a few minutes walk from the hotel. Walking always helped him to clear his mind and, in this case, it was a good preparation for the meeting ahead of him.

If  _ Woodpecker _ , his  contact, didn’t stand him up again, he’d finally get some information about this elusive organisation. 

_ Blue Scorpion.  _ He had a name now. 

He’d texted Dom to let him know he wouldn’t join him at the hotel any time soon and with some luck, the drummer would stay at the bar with Tom long enough until he returned. Matt hated leaving him alone at night; the blond was still suffering from what had happened in the winter, and every time he woke up panicked and sweat soaked after yet another nightmare, Matt felt another bit of guilt thrown onto his shoulders. In his mind, leaving him alone in these times equated to betrayal. If it came to the worst, he would just have to slip into bed next to him as quietly as possible and hope Dom would be okay until then. 

Shaking his head, he continued down the street. He would be late if he didn’t pick up the pace, and he feared that his contact wouldn’t wait for him.

Looking into one of the side streets, it was bizarre just how quiet Milan could be. Apparently, it came down to the area; the Brera district was very posh and artsy, and didn’t seem exactly a popular destination for the tourists or the masses. He had to admit, he’d never bothered with the district either, but maybe he could take an evening tour around the area and enjoy the sights undisturbed at a later time.  

The  _ Cinc _ was located on the corner of one of the main streets. Even in the dim lights of the street lamps, Matt could see that the building must have been hundreds of years old. He briefly wondered if the family running the café had been around just as long, given how traditional a lot of Italian restaurants still were. 

Outside, a few tables were taken by patrons to enjoy the summer night. But the most buzz definitely came from inside. Matt braced himself and then stepped to the door. Entering the bar, he took a careful look around.

The room was small, with many tables and chairs blocking the way, pushing the capacity of the area to its limits. At the same time, it didn’t feel awkward or restrictive, instead Matt had the distinctive feeling that many patrons enjoyed the close proximity to make new friends and have a drink together.    

The walls were painted in a soft light grey, interrupted by white arches put up in a set interval. At the far right, a part was dedicated to several frames. From his position Matt couldn’t see what was pictured, but he could guess; photos of people that had visited and that the owner of the bar was the proudest of. He’d seen these little areas in many cafés and restaurants he’d been to. From film stars to motorsport drivers, you could find a vast array of celebrities, either signed photographs or, more often than not, photos of the star and the owner or team together. He was sure that in at least one of the restaurants he had frequented in the past you could find a picture of him.

Finally stepping ahead, his gaze swerved to the far end of the room on the right side. The table his contact had specified could easily be spotted; the beautiful painting of a bouquet of white flowers stood out from the general colour scheme. Situated right against the wall, the table for two could easily overlook all the other tables in the café and make it easy to spot any new arrivals.  

The only problem was that the table was empty.

Matt scrunched up his nose in annoyance. He could say he had felt almost giddy at the prospect of making progress, having waited so long for something of value. At the same time, there was still the possibility that this person was only playing him. But there was no doubt that they  _ knew  _ something, after all they had known about his code name and Jackson, plus the name they had offered in the message matched other pieces in the puzzle. 

He navigated to the meeting spot, which actually had a “ _ Riservato”  _ sign, squeezing through the narrow rows. He apologised to a man in a long coat that he accidentally bumped on the back with his elbow when he pulled a chair out and sat down. A waitress approached him, without questioning whether he could sit there, but Matt simply waved his hand to signal that he didn’t need her assistance just yet. He grabbed one of the menus and pretended to read it, although his eyes were much more focused on the door and the patrons around him.

Minutes passed and Matt checked the clock on his phone again and again. Restlessness was starting to set in.

“Manet painted this picture during his long final illness. His subjects were the bouquets his friends brought to his sickroom.”

Matt’s head turned to the side, his chin pressed to his shoulder. It was the young man he’d previously bumped into that had spoken up. They were back to back and the other man didn’t bother to turn around, instead speaking forward. Matt followed his example and sat up properly, facing forward as well. 

There was an undeniable excitement suddenly cursing through his veins.

“He was fascinated by the stems refracted through the silvery water and the green in white blossoms,” his apparent contact continued. The accent was thick, East European maybe? “You can feel the impenetrable darkness, don’t you? Closing in around these lightsome, white heads on their fragile stems.”

Matt looked up at the painting for a moment and considered his reply.  

“They only appear fragile,” he said softly. “But they defy the heaviest rain, the strongest wind and the roughest season. The light still stands out.”

The other man didn’t answer immediately. Then, there was a small laugh.   

“It’s good to finally meet you, MB-7.”

  
  



	8. 008 - Human Algorithm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The meeting in Milan resumes. Has Matt found a legit source? Or is it just a trap?

_Milan, Italy_  
_Wednesday, 18_ _th_ _May 2016_  
_00:11_

 

A hand was shoved into Matt’s line of vision as his now confirmed contact stood up and reached out to shake his hand. He took it reluctantly.

 _Woodpecker_ definitely looked different from what he had expected; slight built, gangly even, and boyish face, with thick rimmed glasses and unruly light brown hair; he looked more like Q than any soldier he’d ever encountered.

The other man sat down heavily, not before checking his surroundings in nervousness. Matt noted how his left eye kept twitching.

“I am sorry that I tricked you at first,” he said. “I had to make sure you were alone and it was safe to reach out to you.”

Matt simply shrugged in reply. “I was thinking you weren’t gonna turn up again.”

“It’s not like that, but it wasn’t safe to contact you at the time.”

The waitress reappeared, but Matt declined. His companion, on the other hand, ordered tea and paid her in cash immediately.

“So, _Woodpecker-_ “

“Szabó. My name is Kristof Szabó.”

“Mr. Szabó, I need to know everything you can provide.”

“And I will give you everything that I know.”

The tea was placed in front of him and he gave the waitress a smile, which she returned before leaving them alone. Matt watched as Szabó took the cup in both hands and brought it to his nose, smelling the hot beverage.

“I haven’t had tea in years. Such an exquisite taste, don’t you think?” He chuckled. “Then again, you’re British, you live and breathe tea.”

He took a sip of it, a noise of approval following. Matt hadn’t decided yet if he found the guy pretentious or just weird.

“So,” he pressed again, “ _Blue Scorpion_ . You said you worked for _Blue Scorpion_.”

Szabó looked up at him as if he had forgotten for a moment that Matt was there. The corners of his mouth went down as soon as he heard the name and he looked around frantically as if the mere mention would summon someone.

“It’s the name of this organisation, isn’t it? They use a desert flower as their motif, a blue phacelia.” Matt prodded. “Scorpionweed.”

The other man nodded to confirm it. “You did your homework. Very good, MB-7.” He swallowed. “I was recruited into the organisation three years ago by one of Dr. Sigismondi’s assistants in Hungary.”

Matt nodded and wordlessly signaled for him to continue, but the other man seemed a bit reluctant to do so. So he pushed, “And? What were you supposed to do for him? You’re not a soldier and you don’t strike me as a psychologist, so are you one of his accountants or one of his doctors?”

“I’m one of the doctors on his team. Or, used to.” He checked his surroundings again. “I joined shortly after this particular project had begun.”

Now it was finally getting interesting and Matt leaned forward, his underarms pressed on the table.

“What did you do?”

“My job was to take care of the subjects, treat their injuries and make sure their vitals remained stable. I only worked on patients later on when-” The young scientist’s eyes swerved to the side for a moment. “I also registered the subjects whenever our contact brought in someone new.”

“Jackson. He was one of your subjects as well.”

He knew that already, he was right about this, he had to be. But still, he wanted a confirmation.

“Yes, he was one of our drones. But not at the beginning. He was the one who provided the crucial information about Project _Monarch_ that we lacked. It was stolen from the Americans almost three years ago during the government shutdown.”

“You’re saying he brought you the information on his own free will?”

There was another quick check around the café before the doctor leaned forward to whisper, “Yes. That’s exactly what I’m saying. But I think he realised soon after that what these people were doing and wanted out.”

Matt shook his head at that. Mental.

“I think he wasn’t killed because he was still useful. He was well-established, after all, and had access to extremely important files within the CIA, and Dr. Sigismondi wasn’t finished yet, he wanted the process to evolve. The team was reorganised and new roles and processes were developed. I became an active member of the research team. That was when I realised how wrong all of this was when we started, uh-“

“What?” The hum and haw was beginning to annoy the singer. He wanted Szabó to get to the core of it.

“I uh,” the doctor started and then rubbed the back of his head, reluctant to finish the sentence. “I kinda, uh, worked on you?”

That made Matt’s muscles tighten. The urge to jump over the table and throttle the other man was strong. But he couldn’t do it, not if he wanted to get any viable information.

“You worked on me,” he ground out through clenched teeth instead. “You tortured and brainwashed me. You almost killed me. Is that it?”

There was no reply, Szabó opting to look away. He seemed to be unable to find words, his mouth opening and closing several times without a sound coming out. At least he appeared genuinely remorseful about it, Matt thought bitterly. Still, it wouldn’t change a single thing.

“I grew up in Miskolc, a town in the north-east of Hungary,” the scientist finally said. “My parents were poor and it was a daily struggle for them to have enough money to even afford food for me and my brothers.”

He looked down at his tea again.

“It was tough seeing how hard it was for us to survive, while others threw away their money as if it was nothing.”

“What does that have to do with Sigismondi? Or _Blue Scorpion_? And what does it have to do with me?”

“Nothing. Not yet. But I… I want you to understand why I joined.”

Matt didn’t like it, not one bit. He didn’t care why this guy had joined this organisation. He didn’t want to hear excuses and he definitely didn’t want to hear anything that might make him sympathise with the doctor. What he wanted was more information so he could move on and he needed to stay professional on top of it. He crossed his arms.

The fingers around the teacup tightened. “I understand that this doesn’t mean anything to you. But you also need to know that I just wanted to change the world. Make it a better place for all of those who would come after us. Nobody should have to deal with the pain and worries we grew up with. And that’s what they promised me.”

“Who’s ‘they’?”

“The ones that support this… program. They want to change the world and erase all the pains and hardships that many people have to go through… But their methods aren’t better.” He shook his head. “Nobody should have this kind of power. It makes them nothing more than tyrants themselves, but they’re too deluded to see it.”

“Give me their names.”

“I can’t. As soon as I do you and I are as good as dead.”

Air rushed out of Matt’s nose. He was trying hard to stay calm and it was difficult to find the right words right now.

The doctor waited for him to say something, but when nothing came his hand vanished into the inside of his trench coat. Matt twitched when the motion caught his eye and he was ready to act if a weapon came into view. However, the item Szabó put on the table was a simple pen drive. It only took a nanosecond for Matt’s eyes to zoom in on the tiny desert flower engraved on the plastic.

“This drive holds information of all subjects our branch worked on. There are a few documents on processes and upcoming plans, although I’m not sure if these are still viable without Dr. Sigismondi. But they could be useful to you.”

He pushed the drive across the table and Matt stared at it for a moment before he took it, stuffing it inside his jacket just the same as the doctor had done before. He thought for a moment.

“You said that you worked on me,” he started slowly. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to hear it, but, at the same time, it was probably the only chance for answers he’d get.

“Yes. You were brought in a couple of days after we had finished a new procedure. You weren’t a planned subject, I think. Dr. Sigismondi came in that day to announce we’d have a new… guest.” He looked at Matt warily. “I don’t think you remember any of it. And that’s probably for the best, because the things we did to you, they were- They _are_ not right…”

Matt looked away.

“You used a chip on me instead of _Monarch…_ Why?”

“They started to become ruthless. It wasn’t enough anymore to change the cognition, they wanted more. And so they started to research the human brain on a different level to change how an individual worked.”

“The human algorithm.”

Szabó looked pleasantly surprised. “Yes. Yes, that. Everything comes down to mathematical logic, and our brain is no exception to that.“

He rummaged through his pockets and pulled out a pen before he took a napkin and spread it out on the table between them. He started scribbling.

“Let’s say you face a problem, what do you do? You compile facts to determine all possible outcomes. Only then you make a decision based on the information that you have collected and take action.” On the napkin, several small boxes were now connected with arrows. He crossed one of them. “But what if we delete certain parts of it? Or change how facts are seen? We disrupt the whole process and thus cut off the human brain from its evolutionary path and instead implement what we want the subject to think.”

Matt looked down at the paper and tried to process the information. “I don’t understand. What’s the difference between this and _Monarch_ , they do the same, no? Why go to such lengths when your victim does whatever you want without questioning, anyway?”

“You’re not exactly wrong. On the surface it’s the same,” Szabó replied. “But it’s the deeper layer that makes all the difference.”

He took the napkin and drew two big circles, one of them was filled out in blue. “Imagine problem A.” He drew a big A in the space between the two circles with an arrow to the blue circle. “You get all the facts that A is dangerous or wrong in one way or another. You decide to step away from it because you evaluated through the facts that it goes against your instincts or moral code. But we can change that.” The arrow was crossed out at the end and redirected to the colourless circle. “We simply change how you evaluate the facts and you get to a completely different result. Suddenly you take actions that you would have discarded before or felt disgusted by. We don’t have to give out commands, we just change the formula and you do it on your own.”

“So what you mean,” Matt started and tried his best to understand. “Is that with _Monarch_ you need to give out commands, but with this chip you simply change the thought process and lean back and wait.”

Szabó nodded. “Very simply put, yes. You create different settings and just let them run, like a program. In your case, we used the feelings your brain provided whenever you thought of Dominic Howard to create trust. You were led away from the possibility of something being wrong with you because we used him. You trusted Dr. Sigismondi and his program because he felt like your partner.”

“That is not-“

“Former agent Richard Sadik, on the other hand, was the opposite. You fear and hate him, so we used his memory and a slight modification to create the will to kill. We didn’t need to do anything else, just give you a name and press the left or right button.”

Matt closed his eyes and breathed in deep, speechless.  

“I’m sorry. I know this is a lot to take in.”

“But why? What is the purpose of all this?”

“We did-“

They were interrupted when Szabó saw two men passing the window on the other side of the café. His demeanour changed abruptly and he got up in a hurry, staring at Matt with wide eyes.

“I have to go. They’re coming.”

“Wait!”

But Szabó was already on the way to the door, bumping into a few people in his haste. Matt followed behind him, checking the windows frantically to try to spot whoever Szabó had seen. There was no one.

Outside, the scientist raised the collar of his trench coat to shield his face as he started to swiftly walk away towards the nearest side street. Matt grabbed his arm, the doctor shaking him off.  

“Our conversation is over, Mr. Bellamy, they found me. You need to leave. Quickly!”

“Who? Agents? Soldiers?”

“ _Deltas_ ,” he answered and turned around to continue in the same path on surprisingly agile legs for someone so tall. “Goodbye!”

But Matt took after him into the web of poorly illuminated, narrow cobbled streets, always looking behind his shoulder.

“Wait! I can help you!”

Whether Szabó was simply paranoid or truly being being chased by Deltas - brainwashed assassins - didn’t matter: if he didn’t act fast his source would be gone, and Matt wasn’t ready to lose it just yet.

”Leave, or they’re going to kill both of us!” Szabó hissed back over his shoulder without slowing his fast pace.

“Listen to me,” Matt took hold of his shoulder and spun him around. “I can help you! I’ll bring you to a safe place and get you protection. You can-”

“No! You can’t help me, it’s too late!”He pushed Matt again but this time he didn’t try to run away. He simply stared at him gravely, breathing hard. “But there’s something else you can do... if you want to stop Al-Bishi. Go to the gala, go to Cannes, he’ll be there and-”

A gunshot echoed through the alley and two things happened at once: one, Matt’s eyes closed instinctively when something wet hit his face and two, Szabó stumbled two steps before his legs gave out. The singer stood there and stared into his shocked eyes as they became glassy and unfocused, for a moment forgetting his training as the man in front of him died.

Only when he took a step forward and another shot hit the rain pipe right next to him did everything kick back into place. Two hooded men approached from the left. He started running even before he had made up his mind completely, dodging another lethal bullet.

Hunted by hurried footsteps, he turned the corner, hoping to get some distance between him and the two assassins. The lack of people out in the streets was both an advantage and a disadvantage; less civilians that were in danger, but also no chance to disappear in a crowd. He had to rely on his skills and the poor lighting.

He had just jumped down a small set of stairs when there was another bang from one of their guns, and he felt a stinging pain exploding in his right upper thigh. He stumbled and rolled on the ground, holding his leg with a grimace. Ignoring the warm wetness he could feel spreading underneath his fingers through the rip on the fabric, he pulled himself together and stood up, limping around the next corner.

The adrenaline pumped through Matt’s veins as he crossed the street and took yet another corner. He was facing the niche to an entry hall of a presumably private residence, framed by two huge flower tubs. Deciding that he couldn’t outrun anyone with a bleeding leg, which would also pose the threat of leaving an incriminating trail, he dived between the pots and pressed his back against the marble wall behind him, hiding his body as good as he could.

His hand was trembling when he loosened it from his leg. From what he could see in the dim light, though, the bullet had merely grazed him, the wound not too grave. Still, it was hard to shake off the scare.

With bated breath Matt tried to locate his pursuers. The footsteps stopped a few metres away from him. Just one pair, he now realised. He had no idea where the second assassin was. He could only hope that he had stayed with the dead doctor.

The Delta took a few steps into Matt’s alley, the shadow projected on the ground right in front of Matt’s hiding spot growing bigger the deeper he walked into the alley. Matt shifted slowly to make sure his legs would be out of sight and at the same time pressed himself harder against the wall as if he could melt into it. But then, the hooded man turned around and took off the other way.

He didn’t dare to breathe for an agonisingly long couple of minutes before he finally sat up against the wall. He raked his left hand through his hair before he rubbed his face. He scrunched up his nose when he felt it wet.

Pulling it away, it was red and brown with smeared blood. He stared at it for a moment, and then rubbed harshly at his face with his sleeve, trying to get rid of the stains.

 

_01:19_

 

Chris was stretched out on his bed with his Xbox One for company, focused on an intense match in _FIFA 2016_. It was late and they had a gig the next day, but fortunately he could sleep in if he wanted. One of the many blissful benefits of doing several dates in the same city. Less travelling required was always a bonus these days.

He was cracking his fingers on a pause, readying himself for the next match, when a sharp thump coming from outside nearly had him jolt off the bed in surprise. He looked towards the window. The curtains were drawn, so he didn’t exactly expect to see anything, but whatever it had been, it had sounded suspiciously like a rock hitting the glass.

It crossed his mind that the fans who had relentlessly waited outside the hotel entrance for their entire stay had taken it a step further. The idea was abandoned just as quickly, though. They all had been signing items for the fans and taken a million pictures, making sure everyone was leaving happy. Surely, not even one of Dom’s most fervent fans would do something as batshit crazy as throwing stuff against their windows in the middle of the night, right?

The noise came again, but now it sounded like someone knocking on his window. He slid from the bed onto the floor on socked feet and approached the balcony cautiously.

He pulled the curtains open in one hasty motion and released the breath he’d been holding. Outside, crouched down and hidden in the shadows was Matt. He opened the balcony door straight away.

“What in God’s name are you doing?” Chris hissed. “And how the fuck did you get up here?”

“Just let me in,” Matt muttered in reply.

Chris stepped aside to make room, brain trying to process what was going on, and closed the door and curtains again, furrowing his brow when he followed Matt with his gaze. The smaller man was limping. Plopping on the armchair, it was when he took a deep breath and faced up the ceiling that alarm bells rang in the bassist’s head. Was that blood on Matt’s face..?

“For Christ’s sake!” He switched a light on and covered the distance between them in a few short strides. “Did you get hurt?”

There seemed to be no visible injury on his face despite the dirt, but then his eyes settled on Matt’s sleeve - and then on his right leg and the bloodied hand that laid on it.

“You’re bleeding, Matt. For Christ’s sake. You’re bleeding!”

“Yes, I’ve noticed. Tends to happen when people shoot at you. Don’t worry, it’s nothing,” Matt rushed to add before Chris could open his mouth. “Can you get me a wet towel?”

“People shooting at you? And you tell me it’s nothing?” He ran his fingers through his short locks. “The guy you went to meet?”

“Dead.”

Chris rubbed his face with both hands now. He had a feeling he didn’t want details.

“Chris?”

“Yeah, alright. A towel. I heard you.”

He directed to the bathroom. If they had been home he’d have a first aid kit, but here he wasn’t sure what to do. When he went back Matt was carefully stripping down to his underwear and rolling up the boxers on the injured leg a little. Going by the amount of blood he must have sustained  a nasty wound on the outer thigh.

“Fucking hell, you need to get that seen, Matt.”

“It’s just a scratch and not bleeding anymore, just need to get it clean and then a bandage.” He grimaced as he swabbed the area with the towel.

“How did you get up here? Why didn’t you… _Jesus Christ_.”

“What, you think I should’ve just walked in like this through the main entrance? With fans still outside? Not to mention that security would be _delighted_ ,” he snapped and Chris softened. Matt’s voice lowered. “This is a first floor, the biggest bother was to climb the wall around the hotel.”

“Let me see that,” Chris offered.

With some reluctance, Matt allowed him to kneel on the floor next to the chair and inspect the wound. Chris was used to see his kids’ knees scraped from falling off a bike or playing sports, so he didn’t flinch when he looked at the bloodied mess. He wasn’t a doctor, but it did indeed look like a graze shot and not too deep, but just enough to bleed like a bitch. The flow had already stopped due to the pressure that had been put on it and was starting to dry. Still, the knowledge that it had been made by a bullet made him a little queasy, and so did imagining that the same bullet could have done a lot more harm. He didn’t think he would ever get used to this.

“So the bloke who got in touch was legit,” he asked.

“So legit he was tracked and neutralised just for talking to me.”

Matt proceeded to share some details about the meeting while Chris wrapped a small towel as a makeshift bandage around his leg. The bassist had to admit that despite the unfortunate way the night had ended, there seemed to be reason to believe Matt had gotten valuable insight.

“You should tell M about it and let her send whoever she wants to Cannes.”

The singer simply raised an eyebrow at him and returned his focus to his phone, continuing to tap on the screen.

Chris sighed. “And who is this guy you’re supposed to find then?”

The singer rotated the phone to show him the screen. It was an article on _The Financial Times_ and it showed a picture of a man with a tan face, perhaps around their age, dressed very smartly and posing for a photo in a large palatial room. The headline referred to him as a Saudi Arabian heir.

Chris shook his head slightly at loss. “Who is he?”

“Someone,” Matt looked up at him, eyes narrowed, “who might be rich enough to fund any kind of project that matches his ambitions to-“

He went  silent suddenly. For the second time that night, Chris startled at an unexpected noise, this time an elaborate rapping at the door. He had barely moved a muscle when Matt motioned for him to speak up. He licked his lips and willed his voice not to shake.

“Who is it?”

“It’s me, are you up?”

It was Dom’s voice. Matt collected all the scattered items that denounced his presence in a hurry, already slipping under the bed.

“Get rid of him!” he whispered before his head disappeared behind the duvet that hung down to the floor.

Chris swiped his hands on his thighs and took a deep breath before he went to the door. He hadn’t intended to let Dom past the doorway, but the drummer simply pushed in before he could block him and stood in the middle of the suite with his hands on his hips, glancing around. His flowery shirt was halfway unbuttoned and his breath was tinged with alcohol. He’d obviously been downstairs at the bar with the rest of the gang.

“What’s up?”

“Didn’t think you’d be awake. Saw light under the door, so I decided to say hello.” Chris was trying hard not to glance at the bed as he listened to Dom’s slurred explanation. “You seen Matt?”

Chris pursed his lips and offered a shrug of his shoulders, shaking his head. “Sorry, mate.”

Dom sat down on the mattress at that, inspecting him head to toe. Chris had never been a good liar and Dom wasn’t stupid, even when he was intoxicated. “Are you sure?”

Beads of sweat were forming near the bassist’s hairline under his band mate’s scrutiny.

“I haven’t seen him since after the gig backstage.” The blond continued to stare and he averted his eyes, certain he’d give Matt away soon if he didn’t try harder. “I guess he’s… off. Somewhere.”

At that, Dom nodded somberly, only to let himself fall backwards onto the bed with his arms spread wide.

“Of course. Where else… I mean, he said he’d bumped into Nic, ended up in a bar with some of his mates and would be at the hotel in a bit,” he drawled. “Never mind that I talked to Nic yesterday and he’s in fucking _Australia_.” Chris bit down a laugh at Dom’s indignant voice. “What kind of lame, half-arsed excuse is that? Does he think I’m fucking stupid, the sodding idiot?”

He put on his best understanding-mate face and walked to the bed, sitting down next to Dom’s head.

“I’m sure it was all done with the best of intentions.”

“He thinks I don’t know that he goes off on his own again, doing his spy thing.” Dom sighed dramatically and rolled onto his stomach, his arms under his head. “He doesn’t trust me enough to tell me. Thinks I’m a fragile flower or some shit. Or that I forbid him from going.”

Chris remained quiet, acutely aware of the fact that Matt was hearing everything.

“Which I know I can’t, no matter how much I want to,” Dom continued and closed his eyes. “We’ve been fucked over by dangerous people and he just keeps jumping back in. He’s an idiot.”

“Maybe you should talk to him then,” Chris suggested.

“I can’t, not really.”

The bassist hummed and looked at the mirror on the left side of his hotel room. He really wasn’t adept at giving relationship advice at that hour of the night and particularly not when the other half wasn’t exactly absent from the conversation.

Dom didn’t say anything anymore and simply breathed evenly next to Chris. The latter turned his gaze back and simply watched his friend for a moment.

“Dom?”

“Hmm?

“Are you falling asleep in my bed?”

“No, I’m not,” Dom mumbled in reply and rubbed at the side of his mouth sleepily. “I’m just… recharging.”

“Come on, you tosser. You’re fucking wasted.” He pulled the drummer up into what could be considered a sitting position and patted his back good-naturedly. “Go back to your room and have a nice rest, yeah? And then tomorrow, you can give him a good bollocking.”

“I don’t wanna give him any bollocking,” Dom whined in reply. “Would make me sound like a right old dick when he’s been so fucking nice to me…” He laid his head on Chris’ shoulder as the bassist gently pulled him up and led him to the door. “Don’t tell him I said that.”

“My lips are sealed.”

He watched as the bodyguard waiting outside helped Dom make his way to the room two doors down the hallway and then bid him good night. Once the coast was clear, Chris crouched down next to his bed and lifted the duvet. Matt didn’t seem amused.

“Far from me to tell you what to do with your life, mate,” Chris started, ”but you have some fixing to do if you don’t want to go the rest of the week with blue balls.”

Matt simply glared at him.


	9. 009 - Zahrat Jamila

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt takes a short trip to Cannes.

_Cannes, France_  
_Thursday, 19th May 2016  
17:03_

 

“Fucking bowties.”

Matt stepped out of the pink marble bathroom and into the ensuite bedroom, cursing to himself. He was already dressed in a pristine white shirt tucked inside black trousers, waistcoat on top. The aforementioned bowtie, however, was giving him the usual trouble; maybe in the other mirror he’d have more success, there was better light.

He slowed his step upon approaching the four poster bed. Dom hadn’t moved; still sprawled naked on top of tangled sheets, his arms were now crossed under his head. The sunlight was coming in plentiful through the panoramic windows and fell on golden skin across the sheer white curtains that surrounded the bed. He put on a cheeky smile and Matt’s breath caught in his throat. He stoically crossed the room and placed himself in front of the full-length mirror.

“Every time I look at you I don’t know if I should be jealous that you look like that naked or feel lucky that I’m the one who gets to enjoy you.”

Dom laughed and he smiled at the sound, straining to focus on his unpleasant task. He took a hand to his thigh almost absentmindedly; the bandage was tight enough around the muscle to be noticeable even underneath the thin fabric of the trousers. Dom hadn’t questioned the excuse he’d made up, although it was doubtful he hadn’t seen through the blatant lie of him catching his leg on a nail that stuck out from a piece of the stage last night. Luckily it was little more than a scratch on the surface anyway, so it would heal in no time and not pose any more bother.

Behind him, the drummer slid out of the bed and padded barefoot across the floorboards. He stood right behind Matt and reached around his torso for the bowtie. Matt blew out a breath and dropped his arms, letting him finish the job.

“Fortunately for you,” Dom’s voice in his ear was making certain parts of him stir again. “Some of us can only dream of looking as good as you do in a tux.”

The bowtie was now set around Matt’s neck impeccably and Dom placed his hands on the singer’s hips and his chin on the shoulder in front of him, admiring his handiwork and the view the mirror reflected.

“I’d be willing to be the judge of that, but you never give me a chance to compare.”

He watched in the mirror as Dom swerved his head to the side and took his earlobe in his mouth.

“You look so hot, Matt.”

He turned around in Dom’s arms and reached out for full lips, a heated kiss following that was met by Dom with the same enthusiasm. He broke away to glance down between them, only to be hit with frustration at the reminder that he had plans for the evening that didn’t involve Dom’s cock. _So_ unfair.

“Aren’t you getting dressed? What time are you off with the Burrows?”

Dom leaned forward and his musky scent invaded Matt’s senses again as he placed a small kiss on the singer’s jaw. Then another one below.

“Still ages to go. And you’re early.” His hand moved across the small of Matt’s back down to his bum. “Love the fit of these on you.” He squeezed while the other hand started unbuckling the belt.

“What are you doing..?”

“Making sure that you don’t get stains on your fancy tuxedo.”

Matt was slightly breathless as Dom’s confident fingers moved to the zipper of his trousers.

“Why would I get stains?”

“Because I want to fuck you so fucking badly and I don’t wanna wait until you’re back.”

Matt’s hips bucked helplessly against Dom’s hands on his crotch, one hand flying to the back of Dom’s neck to pull him in for a hard kiss.

“You could entertain yourself with the video,” he suggested when they broke apart. He wasted no time and began busying himself with the buttons of the waistcoat.

Dom, on the other hand, was already swiftly pushing trousers and underwear down, crouching on the floor to remove them. Matt stepped out of them gracelessly, hopping on one foot as he took the waistcoat off and moved to the shirt at the same time.

“Right, _the video_ ,” Dom repeated as he slowly placed the discarded clothes on the velvet bench at the foot of the bed, as if giving it a second thought.

Letting his arms hang by his sides, Matt stood with his shirt open, only the top button and the stupid bowtie still in place, waiting for Dom to say something. He was gazing at Matt with his head cocked to one side.

Suddenly, the blond reached out and pulled at the ends of bowtie, undoing it together with the remaining button, and letting it loose around Matt’s neck.

“Hmm, no. I want to watch the video with you.”

It was all Matt needed to finish stripping. Quickly getting rid of the remaining items, he put them next to the rest of the outfit for the evening while Dom hopped on the bed.

“Why would I want to watch a video of me giving you a blowjob?” Pausing at the edge of the bed, Matt slowly opened the curtain wider and let his eyes hungrily roam over the blond’s body splayed on the sheets.

“Because...” Dom drawled and took one hand down to his dick, stroking himself. “You’re watching it with _me_.”

At that, Matt stepped forward and let the curtain’s fabric drop behind him, swinging one knee first to get on the bed and then the other. He sat astride Dom’s lap. The drummer instantly sat up to wrap his arms around him and Matt buried his face in his neck, nuzzling and licking at the salty skin.

“If I’d known the camera was such a turn on for you,” Dom continued in the same teasing tone, “I would’ve brought it in before.”

Their mouths met again passionately, Matt’s hands running through blond hair while Dom held him by the waist. He dropped on his back, pulling Matt with him, and the singer’s lips slid across his jaw to his ear.

“Careful with where you store it.”

“Afraid anyone else finds out how fucking amazing you are at sucking cock? Would be one hell of a leak, best porn video the world would ever have seen.”

Matt had started kissing down his neck, hands moving from his ripped arms to his shoulders, and didn’t reply, only looked up with a cheeky smile. He crawled back further and, sticking his tongue out, he flicked a nipple.

Dom moaned low. “Yes…”

He did the same to the other nipple, following with a light suck, and then continued heading lower. Using his hands to stroke up and down Dom’s body while he slowly kissed his way down, he felt the muscles underneath fluttering at his touch. The blond’s legs fell open to make room for him and Matt shifted to settle on his knees in between, continuing until his mouth reached the patch of sparse hair just above the other man’s cock.

He laid his hands on Dom’s groin and dipped his head to hungrily nibble on an inner thigh. His tongue ran along the sensitive skin, leaving another wet, shiny trail, and there were more soft moans of pleasure when his attentions swerved to Dom’s cock. An eager hand rested on top of his head. Now flattening his tongue on the shaft, Matt’s mouth slid over the length, lips closing over it in small suction movements, from the balls to the head, pressing on the slit with the tip of his tongue.

When he pulled back, licking at his own moist lips, he paused at the image in front of him: Dom lay flat on his back with his legs spread, his toned abdominal muscles rippling as he breathed in anticipation. His dick was rock hard and flushed against his tan skin, and he was looking at Matt with a positively _wicked_ smile on his face. The pang of arousal in Matt’s gut was so overwhelming that he almost felt dizzy.

“Fuck’s sake, I get a boner just from looking at you.”

Hand instantly grabbing his own balls, he looked around for condoms frantically. He couldn’t wait any longer. Snatching one from the pack on the bedside table that they had used earlier, he rolled it on and tugged at himself a couple of times.  He sat on his heels with his knees wide between Dom’s flexed legs and inched closer, pulling Dom to him by his hips. After slicking himself with saliva, he took his cock and guided the tip inside Dom, and then looped one arm around each slim thigh for balance.

Dom’s back arched up from the mattress when he slid in deeper and thrust, biting his own lip with an obscene groan.

Matt rocked his hips in a steady rhythm, grinning. He couldn’t help himself. Dom had his eyes closed, his head tipped backwards and his arms stretched out in complete abandon, and his mouth was open with a joyful smile across his lips. He was the picture of pure bliss. They had been in bed almost all day, snuggling lazily and bringing each other off, and it still hadn’t been enough. For either of them.

When Dom lifted his head, one hand now rubbing at his own chest, he looked straight at Matt. Shaking his head slightly, his smile became brighter, showing his teeth. “What?”

“What, what?”

Dom chuckled. “You’re laughing. Why are you laughing?”

“I’m laughing? I’m not laughing,” Matt giggled. “You are!”

Dom only pointed at him, his own laughter growing louder and Matt bent forward on top of him, bracing himself on his hands on either side of Dom, the two of them giggling together now and sharing small kisses at the same time.

Stroking Matt’s back all the way down until he held his arse with both hands, Dom buried his fingers in the flesh and groped hard, pulling him deeper inside him. Matt obliged and thrust harder. They gasped against each other’s lips.

“Oh, _Dom_ …”

Matt pressed his face against the side of his neck, lips over the racing pulse, and spread his knees further apart to roll his hips down against Dom. One hand landed on the back of his head almost immediately and pulled at Matt’s hair. He groaned and picked up speed again.

“Sorry it has to be sort of a quickie.” He reached between their bodies to fist Dom’s cock.

Dom’s voice nearly cracked. “You’re… forgiven.”

Ankles crossed around Matt’s waist, he kept a firm grip on his buttocks as Matt slammed into him repeatedly. They maintained eye contact, bodies almost snapping as the tension built, and it was Dom who came first, his orgasm sparking off Matt’s.

Afterwards, he collapsed on top of Dom, lightheaded and dripping with sweat. His thigh was throbbing, but at the moment he couldn’t care less. He felt the blond stretching out his legs and his arms enveloping him in a loose embrace.

“Fuck hell,” Dom exhaled after a few minutes of silence, which had only been previously broken by their combined heavy breathing. “Should’ve filmed this one, as well.”

Matt rolled over to his back and laughed.

  


 

_20:00_

 

Matt slipped a hand into the pocket of his trousers. Holding a glass of champagne with the other one, he momentarily tuned out the group he was with, composed of a few acquaintances and respective dates from Los Angeles. His eyes roamed over the crowd spread throughout the gardens of the luxurious _Hotel du Cap_. It wasn’t the first time he attended one of the prestigious amfAR galas and he’d made generous donations in the past, too, so these days he could always count on an invitation. An invitation that this time turned out to be very useful at the very last minute as, for once, he’d be there in a different capacity.

He’d identified the majority of guests he’d come across, he’d shaken hands with everyone he was familiar with and others who had been introduced; most importantly, he’d already spotted Hamdan bin Ahmad Al-Bishi. Cufflinks and watch shining in the distance, he was, as Matt had expected, surrounded by several beautiful young women. Blonde or brunette, fair skin or dark skin, they all shared similar traits: they were tall and slim, all of them wore gowns that highlighted their best body features and, to no exception, they all worked as models. He saw the man’s hand rest on the small of the back of a girl with a see through dress, electing her as one of his choices for the evening.

The man whose name Kristof Szabó had given Matt just before he was murdered was arrogant, extremely rich and lived to bask in opulence and luxury. The family business was built around oil trades, but intelligence from Interpol spoke of something different which concerned the heir of the Al-Bishi empire: illegal trade of weaponry and human trafficking. Despite being listed as a dangerous individual, no action had been taken as the deals with the family were too important for the stability of trade in the region and no one wanted to compromise that. As usual, it was a matter of priorities, in which economic interests stood above human rights, and digging too much was not in the interest of any government involved.

But perhaps they might pay more attention, or so Matt hoped, if he managed to find enough evidence to support his theory: that this man was linked to an organisation – that he no doubt sponsored – which had attempted infiltration at the highest level in the MI6 and the CIA. An international, invisible organisation that went by the name of _Blue Scorpion_ and whose goals were yet unknown but potentially extremely damaging.

Szabó died before he could relay any more insight on why Matt should attend this specific gala. But if the businessman was about to cut a new deal or meet someone else who shared equally shady methods and goals, then Matt would make sure he’d at least keep track of who his partners were.

As the many guests began to make their way inside, Matt made small talk with the blonde in the pale dress who slipped her arm in his while keeping an eye on the table where he knew Hamdan Al-Bishi’s entourage would be seated - luckily, in good view from his.  And there, Matt finally sighted for the first time the other piece of the puzzle: Hamdan’s sister.

Veeda bint Ahmad Al-Bishi was Hamdan’s official date for the night and, despite having her back turned, there was no mistaking her; thick, dark hair cascading down her back, she was shorter than the women her brother favoured for company, although she still cut an elegant figure in the long sleeved, black dress she was wearing that was covered in lace.

From his research Matt had quickly found out that she was his junior by seven years and the only girl among a dozen siblings. She had been mostly neglected by her family, who had planned no further future for her than a marriage to a wealthy and possibly influential businessman, in accordance with her status. But she had been protected by her oldest brother who had supported her wish for an education instead. He’d opened doors and possibilities for her so she could study at the University of Cambridge. Her field? Psychotherapy.

These days, at 31 years old and single, she divided her time between London and the Riyadh University where she taught Psychology. She had few friends, reportedly, and was described by her colleagues as a quiet introvert.

Hamdan might be the more visible face, but it was clear he didn’t work alone. And given Veeda’s field of expertise and the close relationship between the two - described in one of the sources as more similar to that of a husband and wife - she was no doubt implicated in the organisation in some capacity. Her presence at the event was meaningful in itself.

Ideally, he’d be able to establish contact with her, the weaker link. If successful, he’d have a chance to analyse what weaknesses he could exploit. But he wasn’t sure yet how to create an opportunity to meet her that wouldn’t raise suspicion. Most of all, he had to bear in mind the fact that it was likely that she knew exactly who he was and , if so, he would have to tread a fine line between being a hunter and the prey.

 

 

_22:40_

 

Matt checked the time on his phone and loosened his bowtie a little, containing a deep breath of frustration. He had made little progress since the start of the evening.

Hamdan chatted with everyone, some who stopped by, others who he approached, while Matt snapped discreet photos, but none of the interactions struck him as suspicious.

He also wasn’t any closer to getting in touch with anyone of the Al-Bishi’s inner circle. The sister hadn’t talked to anyone and hadn’t moved from her spot for the entire auction, their table was observed from a distance by inconspicuous bodyguards, as it was the case with other guests, and none of Matt’s acquaintances had proved to be of use. The one person he had hoped could be the key had been an actor (who Matt was quite sure had a singer girlfriend) that was trying to get his attention and, possibly, a shag. The American had already been turned down by at least two other men and it was revealed to be a lie that he was friends with one of the models in Hamdan’s group.

But he auction was over at last and mingling continued to be the best course of action, as he now had a pretty good idea of who was worth talking to and who wasn’t. Maybe he could get himself invited to whatever yacht party the Saudi Arabian would attend afterwards. Or break into it.

He hadn’t taken more than a few steps when someone called his name, accompanied by an enthusiastic slap on his shoulder. It was the actor guy again.

“How ‘bout a selfie, man?”

Matt forced out a laugh. “Another?”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry to be such a bother, man… But you’re such a great guy!”

He was high. Coke, going by the dilated pupils and all the fidgeting. Matt posed for what he’d expected would be a quick picture.

“No problem, mate. It’s Jay, yeah?”

“Yeah, man! Yeah, I’m Jay! Yeah!”

He took forever to get the photo, leaning awkwardly into Matt’s personal space to shorten the height difference between the two. When he was done Matt took off, not keen on spending any more time with the other man. He made a quick detour to the loo and had barely stepped back outside into the hall of the toilets area when he was tackled, his back pushed against the wall by a tall, hard body.

“What the- uuhfgh!“

Jay didn’t allow him a word further. He sloppily attacked his mouth, tongue pushed down his throat, and Matt’s eyes widened in shock when a firm hand went to the front of his trousers and grabbed his balls.

Stunned, it took Matt a moment too long to react, but he shoved him back by the shoulders. Breathing hard while backing towards the women’s toilets, he nearly collided with two young women. Despite his immediate apology, they weren’t impressed and stalked away rolling their eyes. Jay, on the other hand, was grinning as if his seduction technique had been a triumph and it was all part of the game. It didn’t seem as though he’d gotten the hint. Matt considered landing a punch in the twat’s face to settle the matter, but discretion always won in the battle against ego. A drama-free evening, especially when he had such an important operation, was a priority.

But before he had time to do anything else, a slim arm snaked around his waist and a strong feminine perfume filled the air. In very fast, consecutive moments, Matt fully expected her to be the blonde who’d basically been his date the whole evening. At the same time, he was acutely aware that this woman that came from behind him in a black dress and with a different perfume was someone else entirely.

“I am sorry, but I’m afraid he is taken.”

The deep voice was unfamiliar. Speaking low, with utmost calm, the words were enunciated slowly but firmly. It was an English accent but from a foreigner. When Matt glanced aside, intrigued, he had to keep his jaw from dropping in bewilderment.

It was _her_.

The response from Jay came in a non-committal shrug, although he seemed confused by the turn of events. He uttered a slurred, “Whatever,” and then simply turned away without further drama.

The arm around Matt’s waist tensed somewhat and was only removed once the other man was out of sight. In front of him, almost at his eye level, stood the woman he most wanted to approach in the entire room. They faced each other. She was beautiful up close; the few recent pictures he’d found where she wasn’t wearing a _niqāb_ did not do her justice. A dark lipstick and thick mascara completed her look. She did not smile, only inspected him with a closed expression Matt could not decipher.

“Thank you?” he finally said. “I mean...” He licked his lips and couldn’t help a genuine nervous giggle. “That was embarrassing, I’m sorry. But thank you.”

“Embarrassing? Why?” she asked with a tint of confusion in her voice. “Would you find it embarrassing if it had been a woman who was being harassed and you stepped in to help her?”

As if her behaviour hadn’t been unexpected enough, her comment also took him by surprise.

“No, of course not, you’re right. Thank you,” he conceded. “Yes, he was bothering me, I didn’t want to make a scene and I uh…I…”

He trailed off, hands waving.

“You are welcome.”

She continued gazing at him and Matt extended his hand in greeting, forcing himself to snap out of his stupor. “My name’s Matt.”

“Veeda Al-Bishi.” She shook his hand. “You’re the singer from Muse.”

Was it mere coincidence that she knew who he was? He smiled.

“I am. Pleasure to meet you.” They stood somewhat awkwardly for a few moments until Matt motioned towards one of the bars. This was a golden opportunity that he couldn’t afford to lose. “Can I get you anything? It’s the least I can do.”

“I don’t drink.”

“To be honest, neither do I, at least not tonight. I was going to get myself a bottle of water. Can I make that two glasses? We could, I don’t know, sit outside and share? You know, for consistency. In case my uh, _other friend_ comes up again,” he joked.

A standard approach clearly wouldn’t impress her. By the way she hesitated and glanced around he could tell that she wasn’t averse to spending time with him and the unorthodox offer had probably worked on her.

“I’m sorry, you’re with someone,” he pressed on.

“No, that would be nice. I’ll wait outside for you, in that case.”

Matt almost flew to one of the bars and got a bottle and two glasses as quickly as he could and prayed she wouldn’t change her mind in the meanwhile. But she’d kept her word.

Sitting with her back straight outside on a bench not far from the French doors that led to the gardens, Veeda stared ahead unperturbed, as if in a world of her own. He walked around not to startle her and smiled down at her.

“May I?”

It was easier after that. They made small talk. Nothing she shared was new to him and he didn’t disclose anything about himself that wasn’t already public. She rarely looked him in the eye and it was difficult to read her.

At some point, one of the models he had seen at Olivier Rousteing’s table walked past hand in hand with her boyfriend.

“- but I’ll tell him to fire her. How dare she, making me look terrible in front of the guests!”

“She’s new, she made a mistake. Don’t be so harsh.”

“Why are you taking her side? It was obvious she acted on petty jealousy and wanted me to look bad!”

The conversation was loud enough to interrupt their own but faded just as quickly as the couple walked away.

“Hanlon’s Razor,” Veeda said thoughtfully.

“Never attribute to malice what’s explained by ignorance,” Matt added after a moment.

She turned to him with a curious expression on her face. “I prefer stupidity instead of ignorance, but yes. A problem deeply ingrained in our society. To assume profit and evil intent is always at the root of any action.”

Matt cocked his head to one side. “Well, you’ll have to admit it’s understandable why questioning intent happens so easily.”

“Confirmation bias. Miscommunication.”

“But not always. Or we’d risk turning blind to whoever means harm, know what I mean?”

She drank another sip of water, observing Matt over the rim of her glass.

“I’m curious. Citing Robert J. Hanlon? I wouldn’t take you for the type.”

“I do a lot of long haul flights, I suppose.” He sat back and turned sideways to her, laying an arm across the back of the bench. “But no, it’s not my usual kind of thing. I’d rather read about physics and technology, that sort of thing. I’ll be honest with you, I understand very little.” He laughed. “I fully admit that. But what can I say, it makes for some good song titles.”

She didn’t smile openly, but he could swear there was amusement colouring her features.

“The Second Law of Thermodynamics?”

“I can totally explain the whole thing to you.”

He didn’t, though. Instead, he extended an arm towards the majestic lawns ahead.

“Care to go for a walk, Veeda?”

She picked up her small purse and stood from the bench without looking at him. “My western colleagues call me Vee.” Her voice still carried over to Matt as she started walking without waiting. “It won’t offend me if you do.”

Matt contained a victorious smirk before he rushed to catch up with her.

They descended the main staircase that faced the seafront in companionable silence, the Mediterranean waters glowing under the moonlight in front of them. They weren’t the only guests strolling along the gardens, away from the loud music indoors, but they found themselves on their own when they turned to one of the narrower lateral paths.  
  
“So what are you doing here?” Matt took in her figure in the form fitting luxurious black lace dress. She looked flawless. “You look the part, but I’m gonna take a wild guess and say that you don’t really fit in with this crowd.”   
  
She didn’t even attempt to deny it. “Family commitments.” Matt could sense an undertone of boredom in her voice. “And you? Do you come to these events often?”

He decided to humour her attempt to change subject. “I try not to, but sometimes it's just a good opportunity to hang with friends. And make new ones.”

The conversation took a turn to broader, less personal subjects again. They walked at a slow pace, often stopping and turning to each other, choosing to take the longer route to the hotel every time they arrived at an intersection.   
  
“… and just because it’s popular it doesn’t mean it’s true or justified anyway,” Matt stated, stopping in the middle of the path they were crossing to face his companion. “I once read a book by Richard Dawkins where he talked about thought contagions? He said that thoughts spread like a virus. Or genes. He treated it like evolutionary biology. I’ve been to a couple of his talks. We're living in an age where truth is getting less airtime than falsities. The ones who scream the loudest get the most airtime, regardless of things like accuracy and truth. It’s a scary thing. When you live in a bubble and see that bubble, the scariest thing is you realise people’s minds can be influenced by false belief systems or incorrect thinking and those ideas can kinda take over your own if you’re not careful.” He paused - he was starting to ramble. “Uh, ‘twas very interesting.”   
  
But when he looked over she was nodding, tucking a strand of shiny dark hair behind her ear.

“Memetics. It’s a new discipline. The study of information and culture is based on an analogy with Darwinian evolution. A meme – which is a unit of human cultural transmission – is a self-propagating idea and effectively programs its own transmission.”  
  
They resumed the leisurely walk, side by side, along a pathway flanked by beautiful lilies.   
  
Matt turned to her, hands casually shoved in his pockets. “Do you believe that?”   
  
“I’m an academic. Some of these assertions are unsupported or incorrect.”   
  
“But in general, it’s quite hard not to when you look around, isn’t it? When you look at social media, for example. Facebook, Instagram, Twitter… and the impact they have in so many areas… You have media viruses and bots redefining how information is weaponised for propaganda campaigns. And it’s only in early stages.”   
  
“There’s no denying AI can evolve false political and social constructs, highly targeted to sway specific audiences. And adding algorithms to protect users from bad social media is counterproductive.” She stepped on a small hole in the gravel and Matt’s hand shot out to her waist to steady her, but it wasn’t necessary. “We need to increase our cultural immune response to destructive memes. It’s a matter of human vulnerability.”   
  
“It’s about not losing touch with what makes us human. Every technological advancement opens a thousand gateways that only lead to isolation.” The sound of music in the distance became clearer as they continued down the lane. They were already returning to the main building of the hotel, it seemed. “Have you ever felt that? Isolation?”   
  
She didn’t reply. Matt discreetly glanced at her and noted how her gaze had lowered to the floor.   
  
After rounding a bush, they suddenly found themselves at the starting point of their stroll.

The night was passing by at a galloping pace. They were about to take a seat again on the same bench they had shared previously when someone from Veeda’s group, who looked suspiciously like a bodyguard and not a mere acquaintance, came looking for her to announce their party was about to leave. Matt was startled to admit he’d lost track of the time. He quickly checked his phone and his heart dropped a little when he realised that Dom had messaged him over an hour ago to let him know he was back at the hotel. He quickly messaged back and realised that even though she had dismissed the man politely, the beautiful Arabian was still preparing to leave.

“I can take you back whenever you want, you don’t have to leave now.”

“I’m afraid that is not an option.” She stretched out her hand to him. “Thank you for the glass of water.”

It was a warmer handshake than the first one. From the corner of his eye, he could see two men waiting for her with their arms crossed in front of their chests.

“Thanks for the lovely chat,” he whispered. “You’re nothing like the people who usually come to these events.”

“You don’t know anything about me.”

He tilted his head to the side. “Why is it not an option to stay with me?”

Her dark eyes remained locked with his, but she didn’t answer that particular question. Instead, she said, “You’re not what I expected, Matt.”

Neither was she, he’d have to admit.  

“So there were expectations to be met?”

“Who doesn’t have preconceived ideas about rock stars?”

He still wasn’t exactly convinced that was what she truly meant. But he grinned at her nonetheless.

“I’d love to have you over at a gig and show you my rock star world to give you a chance to revise that opinion of yours. Will you call if I give you my number?” Again, he was met with silence. He got a random paper and a pen out of his tuxedo jacket pocket and quickly scribbled down. “Actually, you don’t have to answer it now.” He handed it to her.

She eyed it for a moment and slowly extended her hand. Their fingers brushed when she picked the small piece of paper.

“Good night, Matt.”

For the first time that night, she smiled without restraint. It seemed genuine. Matt slipped his hands into his pockets and watched her retreating back as she walked away. His eyes narrowed when he saw one of the bodyguards grip her elbow and, with a discreet but decidedly unfriendly little shove, guided her in front of him. One of her shoes caught in the dress and almost made her trip.

The night had taken unexpected turns and, despite an undeniably successful outcome Matt had somehow been left with more questions than answers.

But he had a feeling he had hit the nail on the head.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zahrat Jamila = "Beautiful Flower" in Arabic


	10. 010 - Raqsat Aleaqarb

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're back with another chapter just as the Simulation Theory World tour begins... not sure how we're gonna hold up until our gigs, which are almost at the end of it! I guess we're gonna have to distract ourselves by continuing to work on this story :-)

_Milan, Italy_   
_Sunday, 22nd May 2016  
04:03_

 

It was the guttural, painful moan that woke Matt up. His eyes snapped open, but he lay in bed motionless as Dom tossed and turned by his side. Again. Aware of the way the sheet on Dom’s side was pulling, it was only now, insides twisting unpleasantly, that Matt realised what was going on and he debated what to do. Or whether to do anything at all and wait a little longer for it to stop on its own.

A weak kick against his shin accompanied by a muffled groan made Matt make up his mind and he rolled to the other side slowly.

There was little light permeating through the thick curtains of the hotel room, but enough to allow him to see that the pillow had been tossed off the bed and most of the sheet had followed suit. The position Dom was in looked more than uncomfortable; head bent at an awkward angle and hair matted to his forehead, his arms were crossed in front of his chest tightly. Desperate fingers clawed at his upper arms and would have easily scratched them raw if it hadn’t been for the t-shirt covering them.

The blond looked like he was fighting for his life. Matt rested a hand on the other man’s shoulder carefully.

“Dom.”

Dom’s fingers released their hold instantly and he lashed out in instinctive defense. It was only thanks to Matt’s sharp reflexes that he didn’t take a punch to the nose. He blocked the blind attack and shook Dom’s shoulder with a little more force.

“Hey. Hey… It’s a nightmare. It’s just a nightmare. Wake up, Dom.”

He reached for the lamp as the blond jerked again. Holding his shoulder with gentleness, he waited for him to wake up, the struggle abandoning Dom’s body as he slowly became aware of his surroundings.

“It’s alright, it’s me,” Matt whispered reassuringly.

Dom’s mouth was wide open, his chest heaving. His face was covered in a layer of sweat, as was his skin all the way down to his neck and the grey t-shirt was stained dark. He was trembling violently.

“We’re… we’re…”

“Milan. We played our last gig in Milan tonight. Do you remember?”

Dom’s eyes continued to scan their surroundings in agitation while Matt stroked his arm, but he eventually nodded and exhaled shakily and Matt got up to get a water bottle from the mini bar. He pushed himself up to sit against the headboard when the singer returned and  kneeled on the mattress at his side.

“Here, drink. You’ll feel better.”

The blond’s hand shook as he took the bottle from Matt and to his lips, his throat bobbing as he drank half the content in one go. He put it aside afterwards and covered his face with both hands.

“Shit.”

Matt slid an arm around his shoulders and pulled him to his chest, trying his best not to react when he felt Dom shuddering against him.

“I’m sorry…” came the muffled voice against his collarbone.

“Nothing to be sorry about.” Matt stroked his back soothingly. “The needles again?”

He nodded after a few seconds. “It’s been a while since the last time and- shit. I thought I was doing better… I thought…”

His voice drifted off and Matt swallowed.

“You _are_ better. Every day. The therapist told you it takes time until they’re gone permanently, remember?”

Dom sighed.

“Wanna try and go back to sleep?”

The blond shifted and pulled away from his arms, pointedly looking away from Matt.

“Need a shower first, I feel... filthy.”

Matt nodded and cupped his face between his hands, leaning forward to press a small kiss on his mouth. He smiled at him before going for another one and then another. When Dom slid out of the bed he was looking down, but the corners of his mouth were slightly turned upwards now. Good enough, the singer considered.

He lay back down, arms crossed on the pillow under his head, and listened to the sound of the shower running that came from the bathroom. A heavy sigh escaped his lips.

He knew exactly what it felt like to be plagued with excruciating nightmares. Or what it was like to question one’s whole improvement after falling into yet another dark hole of doubt and self-loathe. In those times, there had been nothing except fear reigning over his body and mind with no way out. Sometimes, he’d still drift into a bubble where he would feel like a mindless puppet attached to numbing strings. Other times, he’d wake up convinced that everything had been a dream and Dom was gone forever. Those were by far the worst. But right now, it was nothing compared to watching Dom struggle with his own shadows and being unable to help in any way.

Out of habit and to get his mind off it before he ended up in such a hole again, he grabbed his phone to check his notifications while he waited for the drummer to return. He was surprised to find a message from an unknown UK number. He opened it.

 

_Thank you for the company the other night. It was nice to meet you._

 

Matt bolted upright and almost fell off the bed. Sent a little over an hour ago, he’d already gone to sleep and had missed it. It wasn’t signed and partly because of that there was no doubt in his mind in regards to the identity of the sender - it had to be _her_ . It couldn’t be anyone else. He _knew_ it, he’d known she’d reach out sooner or later.

He quickly saved the number in his contact list before shooting a reply.

 

_Pleasure’s all mine. Did you get back alright? Worried when you left, hope I didn’t get you into trouble x_

 

His heart was beating wildly in his chest. It was probably too late to expect a reply now, it was in the middle of the night after all. He glanced at the door of the bathroom when the water stopped running. Dom would hopefully be returning to bed soon.

The screen of his iPhone lit up with an incoming message.

 

_Thank you. Everything’s fine._

 

Dom came back into the bedroom at that moment, still naked, and Matt watched him bend down near his case to get something to wear. Stepping into a fresh pair of boxers, the blond then reached out for the water bottle on the nightstand to take the pill he’d also gotten from his bag.

Watching him with a slight tilt of his head, Matt finally asked softly, “Feeling better?”

Dom lay down on his back with his hands crossed on top of his stomach, simply staring at the ceiling for a long moment.

“I guess.”

Matt switched the lamp off and snuggled up to his side wordlessly, dropping a small kiss on his shoulder and slipping one hand into his, squeezing it. Dom squeezed back.

The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, but it felt like there was something lingering. Dom’s hand flexed a few times, but he didn’t try to get out of the Matt’s hold or push it away, so the singer just looked at him in the darkness in quiet patience.

“When I was in that lab…” Dom finally spoke up. His voice was quiet and small, tinged with the first signs of him being about to fall back asleep. “There was this bloke… Simon.”

He sighed, trapped in his thoughts for a moment, and licked his lips. Matt nudged his shoulder to continue.

“I think he was a priest or something, I don’t know. But he told me to keep believing…” Dom swallowed, voice now thick with emotion. “In God. In you. I don’t think I would have made it without him.”

Matt raised their joined hands to his lips and kissed Dom’s knuckles.

“I wonder what happened to him… If he… If he’s still alive.”

Only silence followed his statement and Matt considered carefully what to say. Chances of that man’s survival were virtually zero, but he didn’t have the heart to tell Dom that. He probably knew anyway.

“I can look into it,” he finally whispered. “When I’ve got back access to the files. I’ll find that out for you.”

“Thank you.”

He watched Dom fall asleep quickly after that, felt his pulse slowing down and his breathing evening out. He gently pulled away once he decided it was safe to move and slid the sheet over the other man, fighting the temptation to place a kiss on the side of his head in fear of waking him up again. He lay back down as well, staring into the darkness, but there was no way he’d be able to go back to sleep now.

Slowly, he found his fingers inching towards the phone again, his thoughts wandering to her. He re-read their brief exchange from previously.

Veeda had been bold enough to message him, but not eager to discuss her people. Not that he’d expected differently. A change of subject was in order.

 

_So what’s keeping you up so late x_

 

A shot in the dark as, unlike him, she probably would be asleep, he guessed. There was nothing to lose, she’d still see it in the morning, if so. But a new notification lit up his screen again a mere minute later just when he had been about to put the phone away.

 

_A nightmare. And you?_

 

A small shudder went down Matt’s spine and he instinctively looked to the side to see Dom sleeping peacefully by his side, head turned away from Matt. He caressed his hair softly, a sudden feeling of inexplicable sadness sweeping through him. He started to type a message, but then deleted most of the words again.

 

 _Same_

 

Gently, he put his phone back on the nightstand without a sound and rolled over to face Dom. There were more important things to take care of in the middle of the night. Any new message - no matter who it would be from - could wait until morning.

  


_London, United Kingdom_   
_Monday, 23rd May 2016  
23:38_

 

Sprawled on the couch with his legs stretched out in front of him and the laptop on his thighs, Matt yawned and rubbed his face vigorously.

Under the pretense of working on some ideas, he had locked himself in the studio at home while Dom had gone out with some of their London mates. But the piano had been left untouched all day.

The screen in front of him showed a high quality picture of Hamdan bin Ahmad Al-Bishi posing for the photographers at the amfAR gala. For anyone else, it was only a picture of one of the guests, but for Matt it represented much more; the small lapel pin on his tuxedo, a desert flower, was the confirmation he had needed of this man’s role in _Blue Scorpion_. He’d never been close enough to him at the event to see it, but the pictures he’d seen afterwards, both his own and the official ones, left no doubt. Hidden in plain sight. He almost snorted at the brazenness.

He’d been set to get to the powerful heir through his clients and work associates, but so far, he’d gotten almost nothing that scratched under the surface. Not only had Cannes brought nothing new in that regard but also the dealings in the black market for his better known criminal activities were conducted cleverly as it was. Finding a link to this ghost organisation seemed to be akin to finding a needle in a haystack. Of course, not having full access to the MI6 system as an active operative didn't help matters either and the information Q would forward (very grudgingly) at his request did not contain much.

And so, for the rest of the corporate world, the self-centered Arab continued to be no more than a top businessman with just the right feel for money and investments.

Matt’s fingers moved of their own accord when he navigated to click on another photo, this time one that he’d taken at the gala himself, his pointer finger scratching over the touchpad to zoom in. Veeda bint Ahmad Al-Bishi was facing the stage attentively, unlike everyone else at her table. But the glazed look in her eyes didn’t lie - she wasn’t really watching. He’d already stared at this particular photo too many times to count, but for some reason he kept going back to it.

There was no doubt for Matt about her direct involvement in the dark organisation; the link was too obvious. If not as an equal partner to her brother, she should at least be pretty high up in the hierarchy. After Cannes, though, Matt found that there might be more layers to figure out.

It was entirely possible that she had been playing her own role the whole evening, just like he had. But there was more to her than met the eye. And his experience in this kind of operations told him he couldn’t rule out other options - such as the possibility that she had far less weight in the organisation than he had initially considered or even that she had been coerced to participate.

He needed to exploit the connection that he’d established with her at the gala. The closer he got the more likely it would be that she trusted him, maybe enough to cooperate with him. But until he had solid evidence of her true role within the organisation he needed to tread carefully. Veeda Al-Bishi was a wildcard. She could become one of his biggest assets - or the nail in his coffin. He couldn’t take any risks.

As for the pen drive supplied by Szabó, it had unfortunately not been as useful as Matt had hoped. He had reached the same conclusion that he had come to the previous times he had studied the files, ever since obtaining them a few days before in Milan: apart from meticulous research on methods of brainwashing and how _Blue Scorpion_ ’s program had been developed, all of which would be of interest to any scientist, without names or locations it was difficult for Matt to advance further. Szabó did not have access to the names of the subjects, they were identified purely by a code, just like Matt had seen in his own file in Sigismondi’s office. Location-wise there was nothing. The hub in Kazakhstan had been completely wiped from existence after he had rescued Dom. The whole place had burnt to the ground before  an investigative team had arrived. Local authorities were none the wiser regarding the kind of activities that had taken place there.

 _Blue Scorpion_ ’s goal was to build a better world, Szabó had disclosed. Matt snorted at the naivety. They could influence the outcome of wars, persuade governments or the private sector... they could do anything with such a tool. Working towards the betterment of the world, after all they’d done, they were _not_.

He recalled the conversation with Veeda about Hanlon’s Razor and automatically assuming evil intent. Was that what she believed in? That her contribution was for a greater good? Szabó had defected once he’d realised what they were doing and he had paid the ultimate price. Did Veeda know about his untimely death? And if she did, had she been threatened with a similar ending would she attempt to escape? Or had she played a hand in the decision to eliminate him?

When the tabs on the screen started to overlap dangerously and a headache threatened to settle from all the overthinking, Matt surfed from one page to the other, reading various random articles. He rapidly became engrossed in an in-depth one about the scientific studies on the subject of happiness. His thoughts drifted back to Vee before he knew it and an idea popped into his mind.

Sharing the link with her, he simply added:

 

_Hedonic Treadmill. How’s that for a new single title? Release date tba x_

 

Straightening up a little on the couch and closing half the tabs he had opened, he forced himself to return to the investigation at hand and stared at the screen thoughtfully, formulating a plan.

There was no other way, a hands on approach with Hamdan Al-Bishi was necessary.

He could attempt a strategy to get to someone from his staff, but, reportedly, the successful Arab himself happened to be currently in London. This was his best shot.  

His iPhone pinged with the alert he had selected for the sister and he quickly unlocked the screen.

 

_Sonja Lyubomirsky’s study concludes 50% of our capacity to be happy depends on genetic factors._

 

Bingo.

 

_You think happiness is overrated?_

 

This time her reply took even less time, no more than 30 seconds.

 

_Positive Psychology has been proven to have many flaws. I can give you a recommendation for something you may find more interesting._

 

He opened the Amazon link she sent him and leaned back into the cushions, narrowing his eyes. What was it she wanted him to see?

It was a book - _The Upside of Your Dark Side,_ it read. The work of two researchers who claimed that positivity couldn’t take you all the way and how emotions such as anger, anxiety, guilt and sadness might feel uncomfortable but also incredibly useful. He quickly went through the screens to purchase the digital version.

 

_Will read, thanks for the rec! Not going to give me nightmares is it x_

 

_That would depend on what gives you nightmares._

 

An answer instantly sprung to his mind. He didn’t waste time typing it and then hit “send”.

 

_Recurring nightmare of past months: stage production failing us, faulty drones going rogue_

 

He went back to add a second one.

 

_Your turn x_

 

_A request to moderate a conference panel next month. That would be my figurative nightmare._

 

He snorted. Of course she wouldn’t answer his actual question.

 

_Maybe a glass of water would help? x_

 

_Goodnight, Matt._

  


_London, United Kingdom_   
_Tuesday, 24th May 2016  
19:00_

 

One more look at his reflection in the window in front of him and Matt finally managed not to laugh at his own face anymore. He’d gone all out on this and had changed his appearance completely. He doubted even his mother would be able to recognise him now.

Patching his face with make-up clay had probably been the toughest task, but after years of doing it he seemed to have gotten the hang of it pretty well. The beard he’d glued on did the rest to age him enough to look less like a baby faced rock star and more like a seventy something Englishman. Even so, looking into his own eyes in a mirror and seeing them brown instead of their usual electric blue still creeped him out every time he hid them behind coloured lenses. The black suit with black belt and equally black cap completed the image he was trying to produce for the first part of the evening.

It was easy to find out which hotel Hamdan was staying at. He only needed to get access to his room for a few minutes so he could place a listening device in his belongings. That way, he’d be able to get all the information he needed from the man himself.

Thanks to his investigations, he’d found out that the Arabs frequently used the Central Chauffeur Services when they were in London. All he needed to do was dress up as one of their employees and ask for the room number under false pretense.

The time frame for this operation couldn’t be any tighter, however. He already had plans with Dom for dinner at _The Cinnamon Club_ , an Indian restaurant nestled in Westminster and cancelling hadn’t been an option. It had been a while since Dom himself had suggested going out together.

He’d have about an hour to get access to Hamdan’s room to place the bug, get out of the hotel undetected, change into his casual clothes and catch a tube to Westminster Station. Seeing as the journey itself would take him about 20 minutes, that would be just enough time for the other things on his list.

He coughed into his gloved hand and then strode over to the entrance of the prestigious _Shangri-La_ Hotel, crossing his hands behind his back. He looked up at the Shard right next to the hotel and chuckled. No wonder this was the Al-Bishis’ most frequented residence when they stayed in London; it was the perfect location to pop by Sigismondi’s office and get updates on his progress.  

Once inside the foyer, he immediately spotted the reception desk. There seemed to be two women at work currently, one older and one younger. The latter seemed to be fairly new; she was much slower than her colleague and her interaction with her current client seemed awkward on inspection. Just perfect for Matt to get access.

He waited until the younger receptionist was free and then stepped up to the desk, clearing his throat to get her attention. She smiled professionally at him, but it was easy to see she was overwhelmed by her current workload.

“Good evening, miss,” he croaked and held out a fake chauffeur ID to her. “I’m supposed to pick up Mr. Hamdan bin Ahmad Al-Bishi.”

She inspected his ID thoroughly like she must have been told, but failed to realise that the required picture was missing because she nodded in approval and then checked her monitor. Her brows furrowed in confusion.

“Mr. Al-Bishi is currently out? He left a while ago.”

“Oh!” Matt exclaimed and rubbed at his forehead. “He must have forgotten I’m already waiting. Those young ones, always so hectic and all over the place!”

She nodded mutely, clearly unsure about how to reply.

“But maybe you would be so kind to give me his room number so I can pick up his luggage already?” he asked innocently, patting his hunched back. “These bones have seen better days to carry these heavy things, but it’s part of the job, ey?”

“Umm…”

She looked over to her colleague, who was busy serving a hotel patron. Matt cringed inwardly. That one would probably be able to see through the fake ID and then question him.

Before she could make a move, he bent over the desk a bit to get her attention back.

“I wouldn’t want to get you into trouble, lass,” Matt continued and chuckled. “But I wouldn’t want to let Mr. Al-Bishi waiting when he returns. He’s always so busy, that boy.”

She looked to her colleague again before she seemed to make up her mind; she stood up and retrieved the keycard, handing it out to Matt with a smile. He returned the smile and wished her a good day before he slowly walked to the lifts to take it to the top floor.

When he stepped inside the room the first thing he did was turning on the lights so he could take a proper look. The room was spotless and well tidied up, only the trolley in the corner indicating that someone had stayed here. He’d packed already.

He closed the door behind himself, trying to figure out where best to put the bug. Starting by opening the wardrobes, he wasn’t surprised to find them empty; one of the items in the suitcase would do, then. He was about to pull the lock open when there was the click of a door - and Hamdan Al-Bishi brashly entered his suite. Without any time to hide, Matt’s brain worked in hyperspeed mode to conjure an excuse.

The Arab, backed by a bodyguard, managed to look down on him as though he was standing on a raised platform, albeit being almost the same height as Matt. His presence immediately filled the room with a heavy, oppressive atmosphere. There was no mistaking in Matt's mind: this was a dangerous man and it showed instantly in his demeanour.

“What are _you_ doing in here?”

“Sir,” Matt said and cleared his throat, trying to get his voice back into that of his old man’s persona. He showed him the keycard. “I was told to come up and collect your belongings. Apologies if there was a misunderstanding. You know, the young ones-”

“Whatever.” Hamdan brushed him off and walked past Matt, reaching out an arm to point towards the trolley at Matt’s feet. “Take it downstairs and be quick.”

“Sir-”

“Be ready in 10 minutes or you will regret it.”

Hamdan’s bodyguard threw him out of the room and Matt looked at the now closed door slightly dumbstruck, unable to process the exact sequence of events. Then his brain kickstarted back into agent mode and he hurried down the corridor while keeping up his disguise.

Plan A had failed, but, luckily for him, for the best reasons, as he had deemed the chance of running into him slim at best. The prospects were different now, especially if he was required to drive him somewhere. Glancing at the suitcase he carried, he pondered his options: place the bug there now or try to lay it on a better spot, such as the jacket he wore. He tightened the hold on the suitcase as he made his decision; he wasn't going to waste the opportunity which he had been granted with.

In the back of his mind, he tried not to think about how he was supposed to meet Dom at the restaurant in less than an hour.

The lift pinged and the door opened to the underground parking lot. Matt stepped outside and looked left and right, appearing to look for his car while discreetly checking out the security cameras. He hunched further to the end, heaving the trolley behind him as if it was much heavier than it actually was, and finally spotted a sleek black Mercedes sandwiched between two other cars. He slinked to the back and checked the boot, not surprised to find it locked.

One more look up to the cameras and he held his wrist close to the lock of the boot, the small device in the clasp of his watch connecting to the car’s electronic system and making it go haywire. With a click, it was open and Matt heaved the luggage inside.

He did the same procedure with the driver’s door and then sat inside, short circuiting the ignition. Hopefully, the owner of the car would be none the wiser to its disappearance.

He navigated out of the parking lot with precision and parked in front of the huge glass doors. He stepped outside and waited for his ‘client’ with his hands crossed behind his back to open the door for him.

Ten minutes passed and Hamdan still hadn’t arrived, and Matt was feeling a bit tense. There was always the possibility that the businessman had seen through his disguise or, a much likelier option, that the real chauffeur that was to pick him up had arrived before Matt.

Before he could even consider sending a text message to Dom to warn him he might be running late Hamdan stormed through the entrance doors, followed by his bodyguard, his left hand holding the phone that was glued to his ear, and spoke in fast and - Matt assumed - angry Arabic. He sprung into action and opened the door at the back of the car and his client immediately dove in without acknowledging him.

He returned to the driver's seat and waited to be given the destination, fully aware that it was possible he had already done so when he had ordered the service. Sure enough, Hamdan addressed him harshly after a few moments.

"What are you waiting for? I don't have all day."

"Destination, sir?"

"Heathrow, terminal 5! How many times do I need to say it?!"

The singer raised his eyes to the rearview mirror.  

“Sir-”

“I don’t pay you to ask questions,” he bellowed and then returned to his phone conversation.

He snorted quietly and adjusted the rearview mirror in an unconscious habit before he moved the car onto the street and on the way to the M4.

His eyes swerved to the clock in the tachometer. Dom would be pissed, he’d never make it to _The Cinnamon Club_ in time.

He kept glancing in the rearview mirror discreetly to check on his target and his bodyguard in the backseat - Hamdan was still arguing with the same person. It bothered him being unable to follow what could be an important conversation.

Focused on the road, Matt’s right hand dug into his trouser pocket to fish out his phone once it was safe. He unlocked it easily and double tapped one of the side buttons. Eyes darting between the road ahead and the iPhone screen, he opened the enhanced recording app that Q had installed. He’d later on be able to translate the call and receive more insight. .

The phone had barely been slid to the compartment on the inside of the door when the conversation in the back of the car switched to English. He had taken another call.

“I hope for your own good that you have better news than Akram.” There was no way to mistake the threat in his voice.“The delivery can’t be delayed, it needs to be here on the 26th June,” Al-Bishi stated and Matt could see him looking out of the window with a scowl, completely oblivious and ignorant to the fact that his driver might be listening in. “Al-Bishi Tech has clearance. Your job was simply to make sure that everything would be set up.”

There was a moment of silence in which the Arab businessman probably listened to the person on the other end.

“Don’t blame your incompetence on my sister.” Matt automatically looked into the mirror at that. “I don’t give a fuck if she wants to be there or not. _Make her_.”

He grabbed the wheel tightly. What was it that Veeda was being forced to do? And not just by her brother but one of his henchmen as well.  

There was more angry chatter coming from the wealthy criminal until he looked up and saw Matt’s eyes staring at him in the rearview mirror.

“What are you looking at?” he growled angrily.

Matt looked away quickly, he’d been too focused on his thoughts to pay attention.

“Nothing, sir.”

The phone call in English ended soon after that and Hamdan was back to chatting in his native language, but he kept a close eye on Matt now and so did his bodyguard. The singer decided to keep a low profile until they arrived at the airport and hope the recording had material of value. Once arrived, he retrieved the Arab’s luggage and handed it to the other man.

“Have a good journey, son,” he said and extended his right hand for a handshake, while the other went for Hamdan’s shoulder to hide the bug under the collar of his coat.

He was out of luck, however, when the bodyguard stepped in to collect the trolley and the other man moved away from him with no interest in courtesy whatsoever.

Matt kicked a small piece of rubble that lay in front of him and put his hands in his pockets, discreetly following as Al-Bishi disappeared behind the glass doors into the departures hall. Not a very successful day, he could’ve done better. At least he’d gotten a date and a direct reference to one of his companies. Could be important or not at all, he’d have to investigate that a bit closer as soon as he got home. First he needed to get to his date with Dom-

Oh, fuck.

He sprung into action immediately and jumped into the car, navigating through the parking lot  in a hurry. He was so fucked. He drove down the M4 back to Central London like a madman and hoped the car owner hadn’t realised their vehicle was missing. To his luck, he managed to park in the same spot that he’d taken it from and then hurried to the tube station, pulling at his face to get rid of the fake beard.

The Jubilee line was packed and with effort he squeezed in before the doors closed, turning around so he could face the doors. With no mirror at hand to help him, he used his reflection to rub at his face and roll off the make-up clay. He’d just cocked his head to rip off some small residue from under his chin when he spotted a young man staring at him in confusion. He glared at him, already annoyed enough that he had to get rid of his costume in the tube of all the places.

It only took him three stops to get to Westminster Station and he stumbled out of the carriage, hurrying up the steps to get outside. He swiped his Oyster card on the sensor and then threw the remains of his mask away, together with the uniform jacket, before he stepped onto the street. Crossing Parliament Square to reach Broad Sanctuary, he jogged down Great Smith Street to reach the restaurant. He wiped the sweat off his forehead and stepped inside _The Cinnamon Club_ , inwardly cursing himself. One hour and a half late.

Dom was going to snap his head off.

He referenced his reservation to the host, who politely greeted him with a smile when he identified himself, and was led to a more secluded, intimate corner of the restaurant.

Slowing his step the moment he spotted their designated table, Matt cringed. He wished for nothing more than to crawl under a rock; Dom seemed to be at the end of his meal, the pint he had ordered nearly finished. There was also a bottle of champagne on ice, unopened.

Sliding into the seat opposite of Dom’s as inconspicuous as possible, he noticed how the blond paused with his fork mid-air for a moment but didn’t lift his eyes from the plate. Instead, he kept on eating as if he was still alone.

Matt smiled awkwardly. “Hi.”

Dom finally looked up at him, chewing a mouthful of food. He said nothing; he simply stared at Matt while he speared another prawn.

“I am so, _so_ sorry.”

“Let me guess,” Dom looked up to the ceiling. “Oh, I know.” He looked at him again bleakly. “You lost your phone.”

Matt started to shake his head and waved his hands in the air in denial, but he couldn’t get a word in before Dom continued.

“You forgot where you parked your car.” Fork down on the plate, Dom grabbed his pint while Matt widened his eyes and continued to shake his head and gesticulated “no” with both hands.

“No-“

“Oh, of course not.” Dom downed the rest of the beer. “You tried the tube and got lost.” He nodded to himself, simulating a sad, apologetic face.

“I-“

Matt’s phone vibrated right then, accompanied by the alert tone he’d set for Veeda’s messages, and his attention was unintentionally drawn to the screen. He realised he’d made a big mistake when he looked back at Dom.

He gaped and nothing but stuttering came out. “I… I… I j-just-”

Dom stood from his seat and slipped on his leather jacket, adjusting the collar.

“Dom… Dom, come on, you’re overreacti-”

He was unable to finish. Next thing he knew, the drummer had grabbed the untouched glass of water on the table - and thrown it at his face. He was rooted to the chair in total shock, the water dripping down from the strands of hair to his unblinking eyes.

“You should try the prawns with the mango coriander sauce. It’s a nice choice.” Dom smiled at him sweetly, anger dripping out with each word.

“Dom…”

Matt tried to stop him, but he could only grunt as his knee hit the table painfully when he got up, and the words died on his tongue. There was nothing he could do but watch Dom strut across the restaurant towards the exit, immediately followed by the bodyguards that had sat at a different table.

A small cough next to him alerted him to the bartender with the gin trolley he hadn’t realised had been standing there. He had a sympathetic look on his face.

“May I suggest a dry martini, sir?”

He sighed and sat down in defeat, knowing fully well that today had been the worst day in a long time.

“With the strongest gin you’ve got,” he replied.

“Certainly, sir. Shaken or stirred, sir?”

Matt closed his eyes and put his head in his hands. It was going to be a long night.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Raqsat Aleaqarb = "Dance of the Scorpion" in Arabic


	11. 011 - Impulse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Matt continues to work on several fronts... (our favourite is the leather trouser front and if you don't know what we're talking about, we refer you to the zillions of pictures and vids from the new tour)
> 
> Happy Carnival!

_London, United Kingdom_

_Friday, 27th May 2016_

_18:03_

 

“Think I’m gonna head outside for a smoke.“

It was Dom that pretty much threw his drumsticks to the side.

“You coming, Tom?”

“Yeah,” the man in question replied, following Dom out of the room. “Could do with one, as well.”

They’d been at Air Studios all day and were now stuck on trying to figure out how to play Aftermath so it could finally be added to their setlist. So far, they’d come up with nothing; it was a bit reminiscent of trying to get Falling Away With You to sound just right and never really hitting that spot. They were getting nowhere and Morgan had already left as well. In short: it was incredibly frustrating for all of them.

It didn’t help either that Matt and Dom had been trying to avoid each other whenever possible. Dom was still angry at him for being stood up and had already used the opportunity to get rid of the bodyguards assigned to him ever since they had returned from Kazakhstan. Matt wasn’t pleased but had opted to just accept it and wait it out. If he’d learned anything over the past months since both his and Dom’s therapy, it was that patience was the key. Everything else would just work itself out.

The singer entered the back room where Dom was fiddling to retrieve the pack of cigarettes from his jacket while Tom watched. He grabbed his phone and the Kindle he’d brought over from the table before he unceremoniously threw himself on the sofa at the wall.

By the time Matt had loaded the page where he’d stopped last night and began reading the first paragraph, Dom was already out of the room. Tom shrugged at him and then followed the drummer outside to have their smoke break.

Left alone, Matt took his iPhone and, with one press of his thumb to the sensor to unlock it, he navigated to his chat with Vee. She hadn’t messaged him the whole day and he wasn’t sure if it was a good idea to push it.

 

_Thx for the rec! Book is absolutely fascinating._

 

The door clicked and out of the corner of his eye he could see Chris coming in. Standing in front of the sofa, he looked down at Matt in an attempt to get him to make some room on the sofa. It wasn’t surprising at all when the singer didn’t budge. He sighed and then bent down to put his right hand under Matt’s calves to push his feet down, sitting down quickly in the now unoccupied spot.

“Always weird when the studio is quiet and you two aren’t bickering,” he commented and opened the can of Red Bull he’d brought with him. “He still mad at you because of the dinner date?”

Matt shrugged without taking his eyes off the book. “It was my fault after all. Will be fine soon.”

Chris hummed and took a sip from his drink.

“Was it at least worth it?”

“No. Well,” Matt amended. His feet found their way on Chris’ lap, who immediately pushed them off again. “I have a date and place for _something_ , but I’m not sure what exactly it means.”

His phone vibrated and he picked it up, smiling when he saw that Vee had texted him back.

 

_You’re welcome. I knew you would appreciate it._

 

“How’s it going with that… ’contact’?”

Matt looked up from his phone.

“Alright. She’s very guarded with everything she says. Although,” he lifted the Kindle in a way of pointing it out to Chris. “We’re getting a bit more acquainted, which I take as a good sign.”

“Helps that you kinda like her,” Chris commented and gave Matt a quick, furtive glance.

The singer’s eyes stopped in the middle of Vee’s message. He frowned.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Chris glanced again at Matt in the same shifty manner. “’s not supposed to mean anything? Just saying you stay up late texting with her. And you smile when you get a message from her, mate.”

"Yeah, I stay up late and I'm fucking working, so you can fuck off,” he said hotly. “You and your observations."

Ignoring his bandmate’s shrug of shoulders, Matt decided to focus on the current task and quickly added a reply, reaching for the Kindle afterwards.

 

_Can I do anything in return?_

 

Dom and Tom came back shortly after, Dom not only holding his cigarettes but also a pack of what looked like sour gummy worms. It was thrown into Matt’s face, who was so unprepared that he almost jumped off the sofa.

Tom chuckled. “Headshot.”

“Gummy worms,” Dom deadpanned. “Deadly.”

“I didn’t see you throwing them, you dick.”

All back to normal, it seemed. Matt could only guess that he’d gotten the sweets from the kiosk around the corner, which probably meant that he’d also gotten a Chai Latte – an instant bad mood killer for the drummer. It was kind of their couple thing to pop over and get those items whenever they were recording. He opened the bag and put three worms in his mouth, an idea suddenly materialising in his mind. He grabbed the phone again.

The conversation he had overheard and recorded in the car ride to the airport with Hamdan Al-Bishi provided more insight than he had first realised. Namely, the date he’d mentioned. It had only taken a quick Google search for Matt to see the link - the _Disaster Relief Aid Summit_ at the Queen Elizabeth II Centre in Westminster on the 26th June. One of his main companies was one of the sponsors.

From there, it wasn’t a difficult leap to guess that the conference Vee had mentioned was troubling her would be taking place at this event precisely; even less difficult was to obtain a guestlist and confirm his guess was correct.

He’d been waiting for the right moment to ask her about the summit since he’d known about Hamdan’s plans and how he had demanded her attendance. Matt didn’t know what it meant or whether it held any significance for _Blue Scorpion,_ but he didn’t want to miss it.

  


_Perhaps I can join you at the conference. Would love to hear your contribution._

 

Thinking about it, he added another text.

 

_My band could play there x_

 

“How about saying thank you, your mother has taught you better than this,” Dom commented and sat down in the love chair, feet on the coffee table. “And you eat like a pig, god.”

Matt stretched and turned his head, opening his mouth wide so Dom could see the remnants of the gummy worms he’d gorged on.

“For fuck’s sake,” the blond exclaimed at that and turned to the other occupants of the room. “He’s fucking disgusting. Can any of you hit him or something, please?”

Tom turned around and busied himself with one of the cameras that were left on the shelf. “Sorry, just taking care of my babies here.”

“Your boyfriend, your problem.” Chris laughed loudly.

Matt stretched and gave them the two-fingered salute before he returned to reading his book.

“What are you reading anyway? You’ve been glued to that thing for days now.”

“ _The Upside of Your_ _Dark Side_ ,” he replied. “Written by two psychologists that want to show that you must embrace your negative feelings to become truly whole and that it’s okay to have dark thoughts instead of trying to bury them.”

“We’re trying to become a psychologist now, aren’t we?”

“No, you tit. It was recommended to me by someone and it’s turned out to be a very interesting read. Would do you good, by the way. Reading. Get some knowledge that doesn’t involve naked bodies.”

“Recommended, hm? By a fan?” Tom asked, grinning broadly.

“She’s not a _fan_ ,” Matt groaned and rolled his eyes. “Just someone I met in Cannes the other day. We spent the whole night together and-“

Chris choked on his drink and coughed loudly, hitting his chest with his fist, and Tom dropped the lense he’d been holding with a bang. That made Matt look up. Dom was giving him a raised eyebrow.

 _Oh_ , shit.

“Not like that!” he raced to correct himself, Kindle falling to the sofa while he articulated awkwardly. “We talked a bit and she’s nice and knows a lot about all of this stuff and I sent her an article the other day that I thought cool for the new album and she sent that back to me and-“

Dom’s laughter broke his little ramble this time and he glared at him. He felt anger, happiness, annoyance and love all in the span of 1.4 seconds before he settled on relief that apparently Dom hadn’t misunderstood him and he was just talking out of his arse. It was difficult these days to gauge what the blond’s reaction would be, so this one was definitely the better outcome.

He settled down, arms crossed in front of him like a petulant child. Dom kept grinning at him silently, which only annoyed him more and he scowled, throwing a pillow his way.

“So…” Dom finally started, his eyes twinkling with playfulness. “Guess I don’t have to worry about being single soon then? Or should I create a profile on Tinder? Just in case.”

“If you continue to be an arsehole, then yes, you can kiss this sweet dick goodbye.”

Dom’s eyes lit up at that.

“I think you’ll find out that it is you who’d be gagging for _my_ dick sooner rather than later. I have cinematic evidence of that.”

In retaliation, and because he found it a better argument than words, Matt threw a gummy worm at him.

“Twat.”

“Whore.”

“Boys!” Chris interrupted them with a dramatic sigh. “Can’t believe just twenty minutes ago I missed your bickering.”

They both looked at Chris as if they only realised now that they weren’t alone and still had spectators. Even worse, Tom had probably recorded everything, given by the still raised camera. Hopefully that wouldn’t find its way to social media in any form.

Chris sighed and stemmed his hands on his thighs before he got up and stood in front of his two bandmates with crossed arms, looking like the strictest father in the world.

“I’m gonna go outside and call Kelly. When I’m back I expect the both of you to have made up your minds,” he pointed to the recording room, “and put your arses back there, ready to play your instruments.”

He didn’t need to add a threat, they both knew the bassist was very serious. They nodded with their backs straight. Tom laughed at them until Chris threw him a glare. He shut up immediately and followed his two friends’ example. The bassist left without another word.

Tom nodded towards the recording room when the coast was clear. “Guess I should get some stuff ready. Maybe we can get a take down for a small video update. Been a while, ey?”

He hurried out and almost hit the door frame in his haste but played it cool and turned around just in time, closing the door behind himself in one swift motion.

Dom picked up the thrown pillow from the floor and put it on the chair while Matt collected the deceased gummy worm from the floor. He briefly wondered if it was still edible.

“Is it work?”

Matt looked up from the gummy worm, his questionable thought process interrupted, and  turned to Dom, who had a strangely reserved look on his face.

“What?”

The blond pointed his chin at the Kindle and Matt’s heart dropped.

“It’s work, Dom, I swear. I’m sorry I-”

“Is she the reason why you stood me up the other day?”

The singer sighed, still feeling bad about it.

“Yes and no,” he replied. “I’m working on something and it just didn’t work out the way it was supposed to… But she sent that text message that distracted me at the table, so she’s at least a bit to blame.”

Dom nodded.

“Okay.”

“Let’s go out for dinner tonight,” Matt said in an impulse. “I’ll take you to _The Cinnamon Club_ again and this time I promise I won’t look at my phone once.” He stopped for a moment. “If you promise not to throw any drinks at me.”

Dom looked down at the floor and chuckled.

“Fine,” he said and then looked at Matt. “But let’s go somewhere else. The food’s not that great.”

The brunet grinned from ear to ear. “We’ll go wherever you want, your pick.”

His phone vibrated with a message and he waited until Dom turned around to read her reply as quickly as possible.  
  


_I will forward the event manager’s contact to you. I trust you not to disclose how you obtained it._  
  
  
Success.

  
  


_Copenhagen, Denmark_

_Tuesday, 7th June 2016_

_17:19_

 

_The music faded more and more into the background the further away Matt walked until it was gradually being replaced by the sound of crickets._

_Briskly walking down the pathway flanked by lilies, Matt’s head turned left and right, eyes as a hawk’s as he pursued his goal. There was virtually no one else outside and the moonlight insisted on casting misleading shadows across the gardens. But he couldn’t give up now, not when he was so close._

_He fiddled with the bowtie, without losing focus on his task, wanting nothing more than to rip it off, it was so tight. But it’d have to wait; he was due on stage very soon._

_Time was running out. About to lose hope, Matt stopped abruptly as he approached the far end of the gardens in front of the Mediterranean Sea, his breath catching in his throat._

_There she was. Finally._

_Standing barefoot on the small stone balustrade at the edge of the garden, high heels discarded on the grass, Vee had her back to him and seemed lost in the landscape of dark water underneath._

_But there was something off._

_Matt had barely taken one step towards her when he saw her knees bend slightly. Suddenly, it became all too clear what she was about to do._

_“No… no! Vee,_ don’t! _”_

_It was too late. There was only a whoosh of black lace as she jumped, Matt lunging forward and reaching out as if he could grab her despite the distance that separated them. Incredulous, he sprinted to the balustrade, kicking off shoes and getting rid of his tuxedo jacket on the way. When he peered down he could still see concentric circles rippling in the water and he didn’t think twice. He swung his elbows back and jumped, sustaining his breath and closing his eyes, bracing himself for the cold water._

_Breaking through the surface feet first, Matt quickly steadied himself and opened his eyes; instead of a turbulent dark sea there was clear, blue tinted water and smooth, tiled walls surrounding him. It was a swimming pool. He resurfaced and breathed out the air in his lungs, wiping at his face and instantly whirling in the water. Droplets flew from his hair as he whipped his head around and soon he was breathing out, this time in relief. Vee was only a few metres away. Wet hair slicked back, she floated quietly, gazing up at him from under her eyelashes._

_Matt swam closer, but she instantly drifted back - he stopped. On the second try, he moved in a less rushed manner and she still glided back a little but not enough to maintain the gap. The underwater lights and small lamps around the pool cast a mysterious, ethereal glow over her and he slowly closed the distance between them, her lips curving upwards as he drew closer. Her dress had ridden up, leaving her legs mostly exposed, and he could see how the fabric clung to her thighs with every movement of her limbs._

_“Don’t do that again,” he warned half jokingly._

_“Do what?”_

_“Scare me like that.”_

_Her dark eyes glinted, so dazzling was the smile she gave him in return._

_They floated together in the middle of the large pool now. His voice didn’t have to be louder than a whisper._

_“Come with me, Vee.”_

_The bright smile that had graced her features waned and she reached out for him, one hand cautiously resting on his collarbone, the other on the submerged bowtie. She played with it for a moment, distractedly tugging at it with gentle fingers._

_“I can’t,” she whispered._

_“Why not?”_

_She gazed up at him with a small, melancholic smile and tilted her head to the side. Releasing the bowtie, she cupped the side of his face and her thumb stroked Matt’s cheek softly. He saw her eyes falling to his mouth._

_He placed an arm around her and she looked into his eyes again. In the back of his mind he told himself that he had only intended on pulling Vee with him to the edge of the pool. As it turned out, he had simply pulled her closer to his body and her chest was now against his. Words of persuasion died on his tongue when he felt her warm breath against his mouth._

_Their noses touched and he saw her still wet lips parting. Vee’s eyes fluttered shut and when her thumb brushed his cheek again, Matt’s head tilted instinctively._

_Her mouth was impossibly soft against his, it felt like touching moist silk. Time stopped as they held the kiss, as if in a dream... but then her hand went around to the back of his head and she snuggled into him, both arms sliding around his neck. Hands spreading on her back, he held her close, sudden anxiety falling over him._

_A strange buzzing in the back of his mind came out of nowhere and Matt squeezed his eyes shut, trying to focus and grasp at a reality that was disintegrating and slipping away from his fingers._

He shook his head and when he opened his eyes again the pool was gone.

Lying on his back on top of the duvet, it took him a moment to realise where he was: it was their hotel in Copenhagen, where he’d been napping since their arrival from Hamburg. His phone was ringing insistently at his side. Matt glanced at it, but upon seeing it was Dom calling he grimaced. It stopped just as his hand reached it and he closed his eyes again, his stomach turning unpleasantly.   

This was all Chris’ fault. That stupid conversation a week before in the studio.

He’d grudgingly admit that he had wondered before whether there was any risk he was leading her on romantically as he had done with other targets in past missions. It had never been something he particularly enjoyed doing and, besides, the mere idea she would see their interaction on that level seemed absurd at the same time. He had a feeling she was so above it. But for some reason, the thought that he might be putting Vee in such a position left him more uncomfortable than usual. And it seemed his treacherous subconsciousness decided to fill in the gaps without asking him permission.

He wiggled his toes and rubbed his face. It was just a dream. Just a stupid dream and he wasn’t going to give it any more thought.

He gathered his wits and grabbed the phone to call Dom back but realised his boyfriend had  messaged him in the meanwhile. The knot in his stomach faded as he saw the arrangements regarding their participation at the _Disaster Relief Aid Summit_ confirmed.

The summit would take place on the Sunday following their Glastonbury headline gig. There were conference panels - some of them were going to be broadcasted live on a cable channel - some sports events would be held in the morning and the day would end with several performances from guest artists. Muse would close the day with a short set of about half an hour. It was only a small thing without fees in support of a well worthy cause; the most important cause at the moment being his efforts to get closer to Vee.

It was paying off as they continued chatting every day and he was hopeful they’d finally meet again there.

Unsurprisingly, Vee hadn’t shared much about her role at the conference, but, together with the little he had caught in the car from her brother, it was enough for him to realise that flying from Riyadh for this wasn’t to her liking. He decided to update her regarding the gig.

  


_Ramadan Mubarak! Everything sorted for the gig, we’re closing the show. Need me to put you down on the guest list or are your credentials enough? x_

  


_Khair mubarak, Matt. I don’t know if I will be able to attend._

 

_Why not?_

  


Matt stared at the screen intently, but the answer didn’t come. Chewing on a fingernail, he considered what to do. He couldn’t let this opportunity to talk to her face to face escape.

He picked up the phone again and swiped screens until her contact details were on display and hit the green call button. As expected, it rang and rang. But then there was a click on the other side.

“ _Hello, Matt._ ”

Sitting up on the bed, he almost fist pumped the air at the sound of her rich voice.

“Hi,” he whispered breathlessly. “I’m glad you picked up.”

_“You are very persistent.”_

“And yet I ring once and you pick up straight away.” He smiled. “Not interrupting classes or anything, am I?”

“ _I wouldn’t have picked up if it was the case.”_ In the background there were people talking, as if she was indoors in a crowded place. “ _I’m at campus, but there are no classes. It’s the Ramadan break._ ”

 _“_ Oh, right.” He nodded, trying to find a topic to keep the conversation going. “So, do you like teaching?”

“ _It’s not always rewarding. Some students aren’t meant to be here.”_

“I’d be a terrible teacher, everyone who works with me says I’m difficult, always have trouble explaining stuff. I was pants at school, too.” Matt confessed.

_“Maybe you simply weren’t at the right classes.”_

There was no answer to that statement that wouldn’t end up in a lie. A small break in the conversation followed in which Matt considered how to approach the reason behind the phone call.

“You got me in touch with the organisers of the event in the blink of an eye,” he started. “But now you’re not sure you can attend our gig.”

“ _I knew the sponsors would welcome your presence there. It’s a matter of prestige._ ”

“But you don’t want to go.”

“ _I shouldn’t even be talking to you._ ”

Matt nodded. Of course.

“I'd like to see you. Are you really going to deny me this?”

“ _What do you really want from me, Matt?_ ”

He hesitated for one moment before he got up and walked towards the window, leaning against the frame. He gazed outside, at the Nyhavn canal and the thick, white clouds marring the blue sky. They rushed across, blown by strong winds. He could be evasive, try to spin this a number of different scenarios. But there was something that tinted her question which wasn’t curiosity. Rather, it was more like a sharp inquiry that demanded a straight answer, from someone who was no fool and wouldn’t be played as one.

There was no point in lying to her and right now he was never more certain of it.

She _knew_. She probably always had. And still allowed him to get near her.

“You know what I want,” he said softly, the background chattering at the other end of the line the only reply he got for a long second. “You know who I am. You always have.”

“ _Let us pretend for a moment that I know what you speak-_ ”

“We didn’t meet by chance, it was no coincidence. Am I right?” He waited for an answer but it didn’t come. “Why did you approach me? Was it because you wanted to draw my attention away from something else?”

“ _No_.”

“Or was it because you wanted to see what Kristof Szabó had told me before he was murdered? Vee-”

“ _He wanted me to find out how much you knew, in case you were there to spy on him and not just by mere coincidence._ ”

Of course. Slowly, he turned away from the window and sat on the bed.

“And what did you tell him?”

“ _That you know nothing._ ” Her voice softened, answering his next question before he opened his mouth, “ _He doesn’t know we stayed in touch.”_

It was Matt’s turn to stay silent, letting her words sink in. That she didn't attempt to deny anything was a step forward and marked significant progress. Whether she was saying the truth or not, though, it was another matter altogether. For all Matt knew, she could be calling Al-Bishi as soon as their phone call ended to pass on new information. Two could play this game.

“ _What do you want from me, Matt?”_

“You know what I want,” he repeated. “I want you to talk to me. I want to know everything that you know.”

“ _I am not sure you do._ ”

“Why not? You think I wouldn’t be able to stomach it?”

On the other end of the line there was nothing but silence again. The voices in the background also seemed further away, as if she had moved to a quieter spot.

“You should know that I can take a lot.”

A derisive small snort followed. “ _You don't know what you’re talking about._ ”

“Then tell me what I don’t know,” he stressed. “I already know how he treats you, for example. And I know that you don't like it.”

“ _My brother-_ ” She paused and, for the first time since Matt had met her, there was no careful words but strangled, held back emotion behind her voice. “ _My brother is the only one in my family who ever showed the slightest hint of respect for me as a human being. It hardly matters whether it was because he saw me as an asset or as his little sister or because he saw me like one of the many Western women he’s met. He paid for my education. He took me to Europe. You know_ nothing _about him._ ”

“You think you owe him, so you put up with his orchestrations? You can read everything around you so brilliantly and yet you are incapable of acknowledging that he is using you?”

“ _What difference would it make?_ ”

“Your recognition of his behaviour? Or talking to me?”

“ _In your mind they are the same._ ”

Matt ran a hand through his hair and closed his eyes. “Please, let me try. You told me that you hid from your brother that you stayed in touch with me. You did it for a reason, didn’t you? Because you know I can protect you if you need it.”

“ _That, Mr. Bellamy, is a sloppy lie._ ”

He blew out a breath.

“Not if you tell me what you know! I will be able to protect you, I know the risks you face. I don’t want anything happening to you, regardless of what you’ve done. You can start all over and live your life without debts.”

At this point, her role in _Blue Scorpion_ or whether her input had endangered other people’s lives mattered little. The MI6 would be bending over backwards to offer her any kind of deal if the information she could contribute would be as valuable as he suspected it would be.

“Please promise me you will think about it.”

“ _I have to go._ ”

“Vee.”

“ _I would enjoy watching your band very much,_ ” she said in a small voice. “ _I will think about your proposition._ ”

  
  


_London, United Kingdom_

_Wednesday, 22nd June 2016_

_22:03_

  


Matt impatiently bounced on the balls of his feet as he waited for M to finish reading over her paperwork. They had just returned from Moscow and he’d gone straight to Vauxhall Cross from Heathrow, eager to speak to her. Standing right in front of her desk, his hands crossed behind his back and his fingers playing with the edge of the paper he was holding, his gaze went through the room back and forth as if it was the first time he’d been in there.

In all truth, it had been months since he’d last entered the office of the head of the Secret Service at the MI6 headquarters. The last time must have been the day he got told off by her for fucking up the operation in São Paulo, he reckoned. A lifetime ago.

And yet, not much had changed. M had never been big on switching things around or replacing them. In fact, 25 year old Matt had seen the same office when she had been promoted that 37 year old Matt was seeing now; same furniture, same plants and the same damn porcelain figurine on her desk. Matt wasn’t a person blessed with good taste, but even he found that bulldog draped in a Union Jack absolutely atrocious. Why she had kept it all these years, he had no idea.

He was just about to touch the figurine when M finally cleared her throat and looked up at him. She righted her glasses before she spoke up.

“T’s report suggests that you’re fit for duty.”

He simply nodded.

“Fitness test undertaken?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Once you’ve done your firearms test-“

“Already done, ma’am.”

He bent forward, his upper body hovering over the desk as he stood on tiptoes, and put the paper he’d been holding in front of her. She read over it and sighed, no doubt already having expected him to have done it but still annoyed that he had.

“You may come back into Service, then,” she continued calmly. “Although I’m not exactly sure this is the best decision for you.”

“And what do you think is?”

“You and I both know that you won’t rest until this one case is done.” She didn’t need to elaborate which case. “And I know that you’ve been investigating behind my back since you were taken off duty.”

Matt crossed his arms in front of his chest defensively. “What did you expect me to do? Sit at home and wait for you to finally find the red herring? _You and I_ _both know_ that the MI6 had other interests and cases to work on.”

“I admit, you’ve gone further than my agents have in all this time.” She leaned back in her seat, looking him straight in the eyes. “Don’t misunderstand me, I do not approve of your techniques, and I fear that I’ve been too lenient with you for a long time to let it get this far. But at this point it’s too late and I won’t be wasting any more time and forces on stopping you.”

“You’re talking as if you’re giving up on me. Is that it? Do you want to throw me out?”

“No, that is not my intention. But I do wonder if I made the wrong decision when I took you into this project. I have let you get away with a lot of things that others wouldn’t. You’ve become an exceptional officer, but…”

“But?”

She didn’t reply. Instead, she stood up and walked the short distance to the wide windows behind her, watching the Thames in the evening light. Matt simply waited for her to say something, but his superior remained silent. He felt uneasy.

“Have you talked to Dominic about this?”

The singer stumped at that, unsure of where the conversation was heading. He’d been prepared to get into an argument with her on why she should take him back, but this was new and unknown land for him. The tone of her voice was as monotone as always, but there was a hint of something he couldn’t put his finger on.

“Not really,” he replied slowly. “He’s been blocking off anything related to this since we came home.”

“Understandably so.”

“Of course I understand him,” he felt the need to say, rather snippy. Somehow, it appeared like everyone was blaming him for doing this, although he knew that it was only himself that did it. “But we can’t just leave these bastards doing what they’re doing.”

She looked at him, considering her words.

“You’re the best I’ve ever trained, maybe the best I’ve ever seen,” M admitted, and under different circumstances Matt would have felt pride at her words. “But over time you detached yourself from your work and gave up on a meaningful life outside of it. I can only guess a part of it had to do with Sadik and his betrayal. Nonetheless, you were not who I had recruited back then. And then Dominic came into the picture.”

“He coming into the picture and being closer to me brought him into this whole mess to begin with.”

“We’re bound by our choices, Matthew. You should know that better than anyone else. We’re also more than our mistakes.”

There was a small pause in conversation where Matt thought her words over. He didn’t know what she wanted him to say or do. He sighed in defeat.

“He doesn’t want me to do anything,” he admitted in the end, not sure why he was even telling her. She wasn’t his therapist and she definitely didn’t care about Dom’s opinion on this.

“And yet, here you are, jumping into this again in a futile attempt to make things right.”

He blew out a breath. “So you’re saying we can’t win this.”

“We can’t.”

“No, we can.” The singer’s eyes turned to slits. “ _I_ can win this, I can-“

“Matthew,” she interrupted him with surprising gentleness. “I’ve been working under this Service for almost all of my life and I can tell you: there are no victories for us. There are only battles.”

“But-“

“People like us, they don’t retire. We get retired. Sometimes in the most permanent way. We cannot win this, we never do.” Her eyes bore into his. “But that doesn’t mean it’s all meaningless. Find those that are ready to fight along with you and make a stand. That is something you can and should do.”

Matt looked away. M, on the other hand, watched him carefully.

“I expect you to report to me every single find you make concerning _Blue Scorpion_.”

He was still too struck by what she’d said before to answer. The change of topic or the fact that she knew the name of the organisation didn’t register at first, although this was more of what he was used to with her.

“Do we or do we not have an agreement, MB-7?”

He shook his head to get his focus back and nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good,” she said and nodded as well before she turned around and placed a large file over the table – the MI6 report of the case, no doubt. He ignored her shameless goading. “I trust you took the time to reflect on what has happened and that you’re now mature enough to know the risks. Do not ruin it.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he confirmed without hesitation.

He made his way towards the door and was just about to open it when M spoke up again.

“Matthew.”

He turned around to her again, but she had returned to face the windows.

“If you’re lucky, it is him who will be willing to stand with you," she continued. “You can’t go back and change the beginning, but you can start where you are and change the ending.”

Matt swallowed but didn’t say anything. Instead, he turned around and left as quickly as possible, suddenly impatient to get home to Dom.


	12. 012 - Maelstrom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so this is going to be a long chapter. And an important one too, so maybe pull up a chair, take a seat and prepare for the ride... ;)

_London, United Kingdom  
_ _Sunday, 26th June 2016  
_ _16:49_

 

Matt quickly spotted the CCTV cameras but didn’t let his eyes linger on the lenses as the staff member ran down his frame with a metal detector. Security at the Queen Elizabeth II Centre for the _Disaster Relief Aid Summit_ was tight, to say the least, but understandably so, given the calibre of speakers and attendees and the growing concerns with terrorism. The unexpected outcome of the referendum to leave the European Union just two days ago didn’t help with it either; there was an underlying fear of riots across the country that made everything so much more tense.

The pass hanging around his neck was scanned and he was finally given clearance to enter the _Fleming_ room, where the last and most important panel discussion of the day would take place. From the other entrance, Dom gave him a thumbs up when he also got through.

“Fucking hell, makes entering the US a walk in the park,” the drummer commented as soon as they were together again.

Matt had hung around at the venue where conferences and gigs took place for the whole day, even though Hamdan bin Ahmad Al-Bishi himself was only attending the last panel of the event. The livestream would give everyone the chance to follow his arrival, as well as be treated to an exclusive interview afterwards. It remained to be seen whether he intended to stick around for the concerts scheduled for the end of the day or had other plans.

The singer had come straight from soundcheck specifically to see Vee, with Dom announcing he’d join in without further explanation. Matt had decided not to ask why. In the meanwhile, Chris had been stuck with most of the press duties, much to his annoyance. However,  he had refrained from complaints, very much aware of the reason for it this time.

They picked seats next to the aisle at the very last row of the large conference room, not wanting to draw attention to themselves at the front or cause any disruption if they wanted to leave early.

The table on stage was still empty. The tent card which identified the moderator at the very centre in the middle of the panelists’ read “ _Veeda bint Ahmad Al-Bishi, PhD, Department of Clinical Psychotherapy at Riyadh University_ ”. By his side, Dom had apparently noticed the same, going by the dismissive snort.

“You never said what her occupation was.”

Matt took note of the caution in his voice. In hindsight, Dom had probably realised that there might be a lot of things Matt hadn't told him about her.

“Don't worry,” he said and tried to sound lighthearted.  “I honestly have no intention on dating her.”

It seemed to have worked - Dom chuckled.

“Been there?”

Matt only grinned and lowered his eyes to check his phone. No new messages.

 

Good luck x

 

His jaw was set as he pocketed it again. Vee had remained elusive all day. He had expected it to be difficult to meet in person before the end of the summit: being seen with Matt could raise a red flag to anyone who paid attention. On the other hand, the fact that she hadn’t messaged him all day left him somewhat apprehensive. She hadn't given him an explicit answer in regards to his offer, but he was confident that, once he managed to catch her on her own, he would be able to get a better idea of whether she was considering taking that step - or whether she had a different agenda altogether.

She would be there for Muse’s set, that much she had confirmed, at least. Glen would take good care of her and accompany her to the side of the stage and, after that, he only needed an excuse to be alone with her. If not at one of the after show parties, then at her hotel.

The powerful Saudi Arabian heir had already taken his seat at the first row and the room was close to full capacity when the event speakers began entering the stage, the chattering and buzzing growing louder as audience members acknowledged the arrivals. Vee was the last one. She wore an elegant, well cut grey suit with a skirt and black rimmed eyeglasses. Her long dark hair that had flowed down her back in Cannes was now tied in a tight bun at the back in a more professional style. It suited her, and fitted better the image he had of her. She sat down with a solemn expression and Matt caught her sharing a look with her older brother at the front row.

“ _That's_ her?” Dom whispered at his side begrudgingly. “Why doesn’t she have a-”

He signaled to his face and drew a circle.

“She says she rarely wears a hijab when she’s in Europe.”

Matt decided to ignore the “easier to find a rich husband” muttering. He could see by the corner of his eye Dom appraising her and took a deep breath.

“That’s a nice set of boobs to go with the pretty face, though,” Dom continued in the same disdainful tone of voice. “I can see why you’d want to do her.”

The singer elbowed him in the ribs in annoyance, but he couldn’t hide the fact that his face suddenly felt blazing hot.

“Dom, for fuck’s sake.”

As the last batch of attendees came in to fill the remaining empty seats in the first rows, Matt sensed rather than saw a pair of eyes boring into him. As he zoomed in on one of the last figures, he chuckled. The Head of the MI6 in the flesh had just entered the room, flanked by a man Matt recognised as one of her bodyguards. The agent remained at the door, alongside the many other security guards, while she took a seat between Sadiq Khan, the recently elected Mayor of London, and the UN’s High Commissioner for Refugees, Filippo Grandi.

As if on cue, Matt’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He briefly considered ignoring M, but he had just been taken back into the Service, so it was probably not a good idea.

“Hello,” he greeted.

_“Should I even ask what you are doing here?”_

He wanted to ask her the same question and thought about several smart arsed replies before he settled on an innocent, see-through lie.

“Had some spare time before going on stage, bit of a waste to miss an interesting discussion on current global challenges.”

_“You and I need to talk later.”_

She disconnected and Matt simply stared ahead. She didn't sound angry, just in work mode. M probably wasn’t as surprised to see him here as she tried to sound, just as he wasn’t really surprised to see her either. Her name had been on the guest list last time he’d checked and even though it was possible it was for entirely different reasons altogether, he had an inkling that the MI6 had finally found a lead, if their last conversation was anything to go by. He’d make sure to talk to her as soon as possible.

But right now, his attention moved to the stage as the small jingle sounded that announced the panel was about to start. Attendees that were still mingling outside hurriedly entered and took their seats before the doors closed and the lights dimmed. Vee leaned forward to reach the microphone.

“Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. Welcome to the-”

Matt didn't really hear the rest of her introduction, containing a yelp at the sudden iron grip on his wrist. Glancing down to see Doms fingers digging into his skin he then turned to him. The drummer was rigid in his chair, his face white as a sheet and his breathing shallow. His nails dug deeper into Matt’s skin.

Around them the conference room broke into applause.

“Dom…” he whispered and laid his free hand on top of the other man’s.

Once the applause died out, Vee’s voice continued to sound loud and clear through the speakers to present each panelist.

“Dom, are you okay?” The blond seemed about to pass out. “What is it? Do you wanna go outside?”

Dom shook his head in a laboured way. There was sweat rapidly forming on his skin. More applause echoed around them as one of the event speakers was introduced.

“Matt, it’s her.”

“Who?”

“I know her. She was there. _She was there, Matt._ ”

The clapping seemed far, far away all of sudden, Vee’s voice in the background distorted, as Matt's brain went into overdrive. Dom’s words played in a loop in his head as he understood exactly what he meant and, at the same time, not at all.

“What do you mean? Where?”

Dom faced him at last and it was like he had seen a ghost.

“T-there.” He gripped his wrist tighter. “She's one of them.”

In the span of a second, a million thoughts and possibilities and scenarios crossed Matt's mind. Maybe Dom had gotten it wrong, how could he possibly recognise her? But his strong reaction was proof enough something had triggered him. If so, did that mean Vee had been at the Kazakhstan hub where Dom had been incarcerated and tortured? What if she _had_ been there?

“How do you know that?”

Matt had yet to find out what role she assumed in the organisation, he’d only laid out a number of possible scenarios which, aside from the connection to her brother, all included her in the research team. Theoretically, that she might have been in Kazakhstan had always been a possibility, even the fact that she might have directly dealt with the abductees or carried out projects at the hub. At the end of the day, it was because she was part of _Blue Scorpion_ that he had offered her a deal, to help exposing and eliminating this threat. This changed nothing.

And yet he was shaken to the core with the revelation that she had been directly responsible for Dom’s trauma.

As he stared across Dom, he saw one of the security guards moving in a darkened corner of the room. As if in slow motion, as Vee continued to explain how the Q&A after each speaking slot would work, Matt saw the man pulling a gun from inside his uniform - a firearm which he should not be allowed to carry in the first place. He saw him taking aim at the front row.

Grabbing Dom by the shoulder, he yanked him from his seat and threw both of them to the ground to shield them - just as he heard the shot.

The whole room exploded in shouts and hysteria and nothing was in slow motion nor crystal clear anymore. There was only terror.

“ _Help!_ ”

Matt pulled Dom by the sleeve of his leather jacket and lunged towards the exit just across the aisle with the drummer in tow. Pushing the door open, he stopped to shove Dom through it first.

“Run!”

He threw a last glance back at the jam packed room before he followed and the image was burnt into his retina. The audience members down at the front rows were cowering as not just one, but several security guards shot indiscriminately at them; there were bodies on the floor; one he was sure belonged to Hamdan Al-Bishi.

“Run, _run!!”_

 _“GET OUT_!”

Together with the other attendees who were fleeing the massacre, they collided with the staff just outside the conference room. The girl near Dom was thrown to the floor with the impact and Matt almost tripped on her, struggling to keep his balance. He hesitated after a few steps forward, afraid she’d be trampled on, but when he looked back she had already been pulled up to her feet by someone else. He didn’t look behind again and took off after Dom.

Sprinting blindly across the hall, there were people screaming, crying, everyone running in different directions while desperately trying to leave the ongoing gunshots behind. Some took the stairs while others squeezed inside the lift, anyone from the staff who showed hesitation was pushed out of the way.  

Matt and Dom took the nearest fire exit along with several others. There were members of the security forces already rushing past them in the opposite direction when more gunshots were heard, clearer this time, and there was another bout of screaming from those racing down the stairs.

“This way! Exit this way, please! Don't panic!”

A woman wearing a yellow vest from the emergency services shouted above them, on the landing for the second level, holding a door open to guide the panicked runners. Dom skidded on the floor to turn back up and follow the others that had been previously following them, but Matt tugged on his wrist, continuing to face the same way.

“Don’t bother, we can go this way.”

Dom didn’t protest and they continued their path down the stairs. They were alone now. The singer pushed open a door to the right when they reached the first level, mentally going through the floorplan of the building; the flight of stairs it would give access to would lead them straight to the main hall on ground level.

“Dom, about what you just told me.” He’d been unable to take it out of his mind, not even amidst the whole turmoil. “Are you one hundred percent sure?”

There was no reply as Dom simply reached out for the door they were heading to. Matt let him through, before he spun him around and forced him against the wall. He couldn’t wait any longer.

“What the- why are we stopping, Matt,” he stepped forward, but Matt had placed both hands on the wall on each side of his body, pinning him to the spot. They were both breathing hard as they faced each other. “Let me go! If we stop they’ll-”

“Listen to me.” He gripped Dom’s wrists when he tried to pull himself free and forced it down with more strength than what was necessary. Grey eyes stared back at him, wide with fear. “Listen!”

Squeezing his eyes shut, Dom gave in and stopped moving.

“All of this could be connected. Why did you say that she was there?” Matt pressed on, trying to keep his voice steady. “Dom, I need to know this. Why did you-”

“I heard her! I don’t remember how or when, I don’t know! But I know it was her, she was there!”

“There, like you?”

He already knew what Dom was going to say even before he heard the answer, voice small and reminiscent of how he sounded like when Matt extracted him out of that hell hole.

“God, no… She sounded…” He licked his lips. Nerves were taking the best of him. “She sounded like… like.. She was talking to someone about procedures a-and-” His voice cracked and his head dipped to his chest, his body shrinking in on itself at the mere memory of the whole ordeal. Everything hurt all over. “Please let’s get out of here. Please. _Please_ , let me get out of this place…”

Realising what he’d just done, Matt reached out and pulled Dom to his chest in a tight hug. Guilt spread through him at the speed of light. The building was under attack by a group of terrorists, who knew if there were more gunmen elsewhere, and getting Dom out of danger should be his priority. It was not the time for questions.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, you’re right, I’m a fucking bellend.” He locked eyes with him, holding his face between his hands, waiting for him to calm down. “Let’s get out of here first. Alright?”

They nodded at each other before they took off again, down the last flight of stairs.

When they opened the door at the bottom they landed in the main entrance hall like Matt had anticipated. The area was flooded with a sea of terrified, panic-stricken people rushing out. There were screams and he held on to Dom’s hand when they stepped on broken glass on the floor, his head spinning around as he took in the chaos. The shock of the revelation about Vee had acted almost as a buffer for the severity of the situation they were facing and only now was reality sinking in for Matt - and it was an absolute nightmare.

Doors for the gigs had opened at five, so it was likely there would be a few hundred fans in the venue already. Chris and most of their crew would have been in the building at that time, too. The gigs were on ground level but inside the building, nonetheless. Had they escaped already? Perhaps it would be safe by now, maybe the shooters had been overtaken? But what if there had been more gunmen?

There were _thousands_ of people inside the QEII at the moment of the shooting.

Matt could barely bring himself to recall what they’d witnessed in the _Fleming_ room on the third floor. A place which held over a thousand people at full capacity and which had been jam packed. It was as though half of the security inside had turned and began firing against the very people they were tasked to protect. The last image he had seen before he fled the room made him sick to his stomach.

There could be dozens of casualties. Maybe more, depending on how fast the armed police acted. He fiercely hoped the other security guards had managed to contain it and that the building could be safely evacuated as fast as possible. Al-Bishi was dead, that much he was certain of. The panelists and Vee, he had no recollection of seeing anyone on the stage, they had probably hidden under the table. And M. Was she unharmed? She had been in the front row too… He fought the urge to call her.

They were reaching the glass doors of the exit when a very tall, bearded man at the opposite wall caught his attention; he was forcing a door open instead of facing the exit like everyone else. When he looked back over his shoulder the side of his face was visible and Matt’s eyes narrowed.

It was the brute they had pushed off the train in Kazakhstan. He wore an eyepatch on the side where Matt had struck him - but he seemed to have survived unscathed otherwise.

The big tall beast was holding the door open for someone significantly shorter to pass. There was a flash of a grey suit and Matt saw the back of a head. A woman's.  

He had let go of Dom’s hand before he even realised it, charging through the stream of people and towards the door the pair had taken.

“Matt? _Matt!_ ”

“Just go! Wait for me outside, I’ll be right there!”

Ignoring the emergency services person who shouted at him, he finally reached the door and barged into a small hall that led to the underground parking. He took the stairs to the level below two steps at a time. When the automatic doors opened for him, he stopped at the exit, breathing hard as he surveyed the area. The parking lot was full but devoid of people, the polished surfaces of the vehicles filling his vision.

Rushed steps and female voices came from behind, from the stairs he had taken himself, and he hid in the shadows. A couple of people ran past him, fleeing towards the exit. He tried to listen to anything that would give away Vee’s location, but, apart from the muffled sirens coming from outside signaling that there was something tragically wrong, there was nothing telling. They might have left already.

Suddenly he heard a car’s engine. It seemed to come from the level below, the sound carrying over from the ramp that connected both floors. He spun on his heels to turn back and take the stairs again.

As soon as he reached the automatic doors of -2, he saw more people running across the parking lot, but it was the grey BMW, taking the ramp a few metres ahead and heading upstairs that got his attention. Cursing under his breath, he sprinted along the lane to maybe try to catch up with it at the exit before it managed to leave the building.

Just as he was passing the ramp, though, he realised there was an engine running nearby and as he looked up through the gap, he saw the BMW parked next to the rail. The sound of high heels quickly clicking along the pavement upstairs suddenly echoed in the air and he saw Vee approaching the car.

"It was you.”

She flinched at the sound of Matt’s voice and stopped. It seemed to take her a moment to realise where it had come from, but when she turned her eyes met his instantly.

“It was you all along, behind all of this. Not your brother." It was a wonder his voice didn’t shake. “I should’ve known.”

“You couldn’t have known.” She stepped closer to the handrail. “It’s me who failed, I didn’t succeed at winning your trust even though the seed of doubt was planted.”

Matt shook his head. “ _Why_ are you doing all this?”

“You know why, I never lied to you.” There was genuine puzzlement on her face. “Our world is rotten. Every living system is declining, and the rate of decline is accelerating. All of it is happening before our eyes and yet we act as if we have all the time we want and all the solutions!”

“And how are you gonna change that? By brainwashing everyone?”

“I’ve tried to show that to you, that sometimes we need to face dark truths in a different way for a balanced outcome. I’ve been trying to tell you, make you _understand_.”

He scoffed. “Is that what you tell yourself to justify murdering your own brother?”

She glanced around at the sound of more people running before replying, “You know who he was. _What_ he was.” Her voice was cold as ice. “Don’t tell me you wouldn’t have done the same if given the chance.”

“If given the chance I would have him arrested. If given the chance I would have _Blue Scorpion_ dismantled and people like Sigismondi locked up for what they’ve done.”

It was her turn to scoff at his words.

“Because you’re different? Because you don’t defy the status quo or resort to violence? Or spill blood?” she fired back. “Tell me, Matt, how many people did you murder in the past year alone in the name of this cause? How many people died at your hands because you were blind with grief and wanted to find out the truth about what happened to your boyfriend?”

Matt hesitated, his body tense as he curled his hands into fists.

“Your entire life you served a country, politics, personal motivations. In the end, you believe you’re fighting to make the world a better place and you know it’s impossible to do it without collateral damage. You know that and you accept it. Tell me, how is that any different from what _Blue Scorpion_ does?”

From inside the car he heard someone shouting, probably the bearded brute, and she turned her attention away from Matt.

“You ordered Sigismondi’s death. And Jackson’s. You abducted Dom.”

At that she looked at him again.

“Oh no, Matt, not Dominic.”

He laughed bitterly. “Are you actually saying you didn’t harm him? You tortured him for no reason other than to strike me!”

She signaled to the driver to wait before turning to Matt again. There were more sirens approaching now.

“Did you never ask yourself why he was taken but stayed alive and mostly unharmed all this time?”

The question took him by surprise. It was something that had indeed riddled him ever since he had brought Dom home. he’d never reached a conclusion.

“Dominic is alive because of _me,_ Matt. It was _you_ we wanted, not him. You eluded the program and caused too much trouble. He was taken by mistake. My brother was furious and gave orders to execute him, but I persuaded him not to. Dominic didn’t deserve to die, he was innocent, after all. I also convinced Hamdan to stop pursuing you afterwards, that he had already wasted too many resources on you for nothing.”

She paused and took a deep breath.

“But I was sure our paths would cross again someday. It was a surprise to see you in Cannes, but I knew immediately it was no coincidence.”

Matt was rooted to the pavement.

“I am resilient. I don’t break. I know no other way of life. You have no idea what I endured all my life, the obstacles I faced, how much I had to fight to be where I am today. To go as far as I could be allowed to go and make it seem as though every step forward was only down to someone’s kindness.”

She turned to leave but before she did, she faced Matt one last time.

“I didn’t come this far to fail. All threats are dealt with. And if they’re not resolved at the first time, then we will strike again until we reach our goal. You will find that out very soon, Matt.”

The dreadful, worst case scenario had been confirmed - not only had she been two steps ahead of him from the start but she had also masterminded the entire project.

“What do you mean?” he breathed.

“It begins today.” She took a deep breath. “And there’s nothing you can do to stop it, so please don’t try to chase me.”

She turned, bringing the conversation to an end and Matt reached out a hand instinctively.

“No, wait! Stop!”

He took off, using the ramp to go upstairs, biting his lip while he ran as fast as he could. But he could only hear the tires screeching as the car sped off. He only managed to catch sight of the grey vehicle taking a turn towards the exit and to the street.

“Fuck!”

He ran back and forth for a few seconds, unsure on what to do, his hand shooting out to pull at his hair in fury. Finally, he turned to the exit and stumbled to the middle of the road, gazing at the car almost at the end of the street, between the groups of people fleeing and turning towards Westminster Bridge. The streets in the area were bound to be closed to traffic very soon and they had just managed to escape the chaos.

Suddenly, a car honked loudly from right behind him and he jumped up, turning around instantly. He blinked - it was a very familiar Jaguar F-Type Coupé. He lunged to the driver’s door, opening it immediately.

“Chris, I need you car!”

He spotted Dom on the passenger’s seat.

“Matt, are you alright?”

“Get out, I need your car!”

Chris blinked at him, his brow furrowed. “What? The fuck I’m giving you my car! What’s going on?”

He couldn’t afford to lose more time. He threw the door shut and jumped over the front of the sports car, much to Chris’ dismay, before he opened the door on the other side and dove in, Dom grunting when he flopped on his lap.

He pointed ahead and shouted on top of Dom’s grunting, “Go, go, _go_!”

The car skittered on the wet pavement, trying to grapple purchase as Chris complied with Matt’s command. The singer bumped in Dom’s lap like a hyperactive child as he tried to spot Vee’s car. They couldn’t have gotten far.

“What happened there, Matt?” Dom asked and looked out of the window in search as well, even though he didn’t know what he was looking for.

“You were right,” Matt answered and leant forward in an attempt to see better. “It’s her. She- _There_!”

The grey BMW came into view just around the corner, about to turn into Great Smith Street. Matt grabbed the steering wheel and turned it where he wanted to go, Chris yelping at the sudden intrusion and trying hard not to crash into another car.

“Matt!” he shouted and slapped the wiry hand away. “Don’t do that. Jesus. Just tell me where to go.”

“Follow that grey BMW there. Quick!”

It seemed like that was the exact moment that the occupants of the other car realised who was about to catch up on them. It suddenly gained speed and rushed past the traffic and oncoming ambulances and police services.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. Follow. _Follow_!”

“Jesus Christ.”

Chris hit the accelerator and the rear of the Jaguar skidded once again on the wet road when they easily doubled the speed in only a few seconds.

A car chase in bloody London. Fantastic.

They sped down Great Smith Street at frightening speed, dodging other vehicles and several pedestrians that tried to get as far away as possible from the centre in an attempt to keep up with the Arab’s car.

Chris was sweating buckets. Never ever having used the potential of his car he wasn’t used to this kind of speed. He should have taken up that invitation to race at an official track the other day when one of his mates had offered. Then again, the whole situation was seriously fucked up and not helpful whatsoever either.

At his side, Matt kept hitting the call button on his phone and pressing it to his ear, just to look at it as if it could tell him why the hell the call wouldn’t connect. Possibly, the network was already dead like it always turned out to be when something happened.

A red traffic light lit up at the end of the street and Chris instinctively slowed down. Their target, however, seemed to pick up speed and passed the red light to swerve left into the street, other cars honking as they full braked.

“Fuck _off_ !” Matt shouted and punched Chris’ shoulder hard. “ _Hurry_!”

Chris swallowed but complied anyway, just praying to he didn’t even know who that nobody would hit them. They turned the corner to find the BMW already having gained a huge distance.

“Where the hell does she wanna go?” Dom asked and peeked from behind Matt to see the street ahead. “To Heathrow?”

Matt didn’t reply. Instead, he tried to call M again. Seemed like he still couldn’t get a connection, which annoyed him immensely. Big organisation to prevent terrorism, yet couldn’t get a working network in times of peril. Especially now that he needed reinforcements it couldn’t be a worse time.

Vee’s car turned onto Lambeth Bridge and Chris followed. Another batch of ambulances passed them by with sirens.

“I hope people back there are alright.”

Nobody answered.

At the end of the bridge, the BMW cut on the roundabout and instead drove in the wrong lane to directly cross to the right. Without even thinking Chris did the same thing. Horns and screeching followed, and for one split second he closed his eyes, sure that this was it.

Nothing happened, however, and as soon as he opened his eyes again he saw that the road was mostly free and that he was in the correct lane.  

“Can’t you drive faster?” Matt growled at his side.

“We’re in fucking Central London, Matt!” Chris shot back. “This is already quicker than any of the streets should be driven.”

“We can’t let her get away, so hurry the fuck up!”

Just ahead to their right the MI6 building came into view and Matt looked up at it in momentary distraction. He fingered his phone, a weird feeling settling in the pit of his stomach. But it was gone just as quickly and as they turned onto Vauxhall bridge he pressed the phone into Dom’s hand and lunged forward without warning, planting one foot next to Chris’ on the pedals and then manoeuvred over the gear lever, hitting Dom’s face with his shoulder, onto Chris’ lap just when the bassist had sped up.

“Are you fucking crazy?!”

He pushed his foot on Chris’ on the accelerator to gain speed and pushed the other man’s hands off the wheel to control it himself.

“Matt, for fuck’s sake,” Chris shouted and tried to see the street ahead, which was blocked by Matt’s back in his line of vision. “Have you gone mad?”

“I need you to move to the other seat.”

“What?!”

“Just unhook the seat and jump over.” There was no room for discussion. “On three, yeah?”

“Okay. Okay, on three.”

“One, two-“

Matt took the foot off the accelerator and instead put it on the floor, standing up slightly while holding the wheel to give Chris enough leverage.

“-three.”

The seat was unhooked and slid backwards and Chris moved over the middle console with as much grace as he could, pushing Matt slightly against the window who held the car as steady as he could. Dom received an elbow to the stomach and he whined miserably before all air left him when the bassist plopped down on his groin.

Matt let himself fall back slightly to sit in the seat and then hooked it back to the front, almost on the highest setting. He buckled up just when Chris did the same to Dom and him. The singer kicked his foot on the accelerator again to make up for the slight slip of speed.

Matt definitely drove much more ruthlessly than Chris had, using the entire road as his racing track without caring about oncoming traffic. Only fifteen seconds of Matt as the driver and Chris had already hidden his eyes behind his hands, not wanting to see what they would crash into.

“Please be careful with the car…”

They turned a hard left at the junction onto Grosvenor Road between two cars and sped alongside the Thames, slowly catching up on the BMW.

“Matt, I swear, if you crash this car-”

Matt ignored him and instead asked, “Have you reached M yet?”

“No,” Dom replied. “I’m not sure if it just rings through or there’s no connection.”

“Are you even listening to me?!”

Matt grabbed the steering wheel harder. He had no clue what other plans Vee had and, frankly, she had already done enough today. He couldn’t let her get away with what she’d done. And what she’d said. He needed more answers, he needed to know exactly what she meant.

He needed to stop her.

He started to fumble with his belt in an attempt to unlock the clasp and pull it out of the loops, but it turned out to be a much more difficult task when you were speeding down a road on 50 mph, trying to avoid crashing into another vehicle or drive into the river. He slightly raised his bum off the seat and turned his head to the passenger seat without his eyes leaving the road.

“Help me with my belt, quick!”

Chris’ eyes instantly went to his face. “What the fuck?! You’re not gonna get a handjob in my car?!”

“I’m not trying to get a handjob, my god.” He patted for one of their hands. “Get the belt off and unhook the buckle. Just fucking do it.”

He’d gotten the belt from Q only a couple of days before, paired with a pen. Belts were easy to hide and get through airport security and, being a musician, nobody would wonder why he always had a pen with him; signing CDs or photos was a normal occasion.

There was nothing special about the leather of the belt, it was more about the buckle; there were two pins that were made of a special diamond titanium hybrid alloy that could break through many materials. The pen, on the other hand, was like a portable gun and always reminded Matt of those pen slingshots that you built at school to shoot paper balls. Granted, this was much more advanced, of course. The pins could be fired at frighteningly precision and would now hopefully tear open one of the BMW’s tires.  

“This is fucking bizarre,” Dom whispered as he extended his hand to touch the buckle, unhooking it with a simple hand gesture. He’d become way too accustomed to doing this.

Chris pulled it off and turned it over, finding a small mechanism on the back that made it easier to disassemble the whole thing.

“How do you get all this shit through security?”

“You never take belts through the detectors. Give me the pins,” he answered and held out his hand. He put them between his lips to hold them while he lowered the window on his side. “I need you to hold the wheel steady.”

Chris leaned forward to hold it, Dom holding onto his waist to keep him steady, and Matt leaned out of the window slightly while still keeping his foot on the accelerator. He pulled the pen from his jacket and pressed a button, a small scope popping out, and inserted one of the pins into the incision that it left.

He closed his left eye to aim with the right and then shot the pin. It pinched against the metal above the tire.

“Fuck.”

Reloading his pen gun, he aimed again just when Chris swerved the car to the right. His head hit the metal of the car and he let go of the pen. The device clattered to the road behind them.

“Shit, sorry.”

Matt shook his head and took over the wheel again. No chance to do it this way, so there was only the brute approach left.

His foot felt like lead when it floored the accelerator. Slowly catching up, the Jaguar’s radiator grille bumped the trunk of the BMW with a pop and Chris winced at his side. He moved the car so that it was slightly shifted to the one ahead and willed it to go faster.

The front tire of the Jaguar was almost level with the rear tire of the car ahead when Matt steered sharply to the left and bumped into the other car, Dom groaning when the weight on top of him shifted alongside.

“Matt, no!” Chris shouted in warning, but braced himself with his elbow on the b-pillar.

Another bump was executed when they were almost side by side. Matt’s eyes left the road for a second to look at the soldier driving and then, without warning, turned the wheel again, the red Jaguar bumping into the BMW like a cannonball.

Both cars pushed against each other, the metal screeching with the pressure that was put upon it. His enemy suddenly eased off to the side and Matt reacted immediately, turning to the other side not to lose control over the car. He’d just stabilised it enough for another attack when he took another quick look and saw the other man  raising a gun towards the window.

Without even thinking he jerked the wheel to the right – anything to get Chris and Dom out of the line of fire. Only then he realised that he’d made a big mistake.

The road was too slippery for such a manoeuvre and the rear pulled to the side. Matt held against it, but he couldn’t stop the car from spinning. Doing his best to prevent the worst in the split second that he had, he took his foot off the accelerator and steered only carefully. It took all he had not to hit the brakes.

He couldn’t prevent the car from crashing into a tree from the right backside, the airbags exploding in their faces. The BMW sped away.

Groaning loudly, Matt came back to and immediately looked to his left to check on his friends.

“You guys alright?”

Chris grunted but nodded affirmatively. He looked at Matt with a murderous glare. “I _told_ you not to damage my car.”

Matt ignored him and instead patted Dom’s shoulder.

“Dom,” he called out. “Hey, Dom, you okay?”

Dom’s moan served as reply, the drummer nodding and holding his head. “Yeah.”

He looked a bit more battered than Chris; he’d had it worse with the bassist sitting in his lap. Then again, that weight had probably kept him rooted on impact. All that mattered was that both were okay for now, even though a trip to the hospital was definitely in order.

Unbuckling his seat belt, Matt crawled out of the broken window to plop on the ground next to the car. The grass underneath him was wet and he clawed at it in fury before he stood up and wobbled a few metres away, as if he was contemplating running after Vee’s car.

Meanwhile, Dom and Chris exited much slower. Dom dusted off his leather jacket as soon as he was able to stand before he looked down at the car. That could have ended a lot nastier than it had. Thankfully. He put his hands on his hips and bent down slightly, inspecting the completely destroyed backside.

“Well,” he started and looked up at Chris, who’d stepped up next to him, with a glint in his eyes. “At least you won’t be able to tell where Matt scratched it now.”

“You can stick that sarcastic comment up your arse, mate.”

Dom chuckled and then groaned when it made pain shoot up his skull before he righted himself.

Chris opened the door on the driver’s side and the radio switched itself on, a sign of the damaged electronic system. He sat down in the seat, looking at what was left of his pretty red sports car.

 _“-say how many casualties are confirmed,”_ the voice in the radio said over the noise caused by the poor reception.

 _“Can you tell us anything about the victims yet, Dan?”_ another voice asked.

_“According to initial reports, the death toll is so far being placed at fifteen, but it is expected to rise further.“_

Matt balled his hands to fists. At least fifteen victims. Fifteen innocent people. Just to kill her brother. Many more scarred for life. Was it worth it? He would make her pay for unleashing this pain on so many people.

_“-not yet known. However, police have confirmed that among the casualties are MP Michael Rosewood and Arab businessman Hamdan bin Ahmad Al-Bishi, to add to the previously reported passing of MI6 Chief in Command-“_

He stopped listening. Everything stopped. There must have been a mistake. He must have misheard.

Hands losing tension alongside the rest of his body, Matt could feel how the last remaining bit of adrenaline evaporated.

Impossible.

“Matt?”

Slumping down to the floor, he barely felt when Dom stepped up to him and laid a hand on his shoulder.

He simply stared ahead in silence.


	13. 013 - Requiem

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everyone had a happy Easter with lots of chocolate and that it helped digest the bitter pill of chapter 012..! 
> 
> Anyone else looking forward to Pray's release on Friday? Thank you Mr. Bellamy for providing suitable soundtrack for our story ;)

_Montreux, Switzerland_  
_Saturday, 2nd July 2016_  
_14:09_

It was raining in London.

Sheltered under a large umbrella, the BBC reporter outside the Westminster Abbey listed the achievements of the late Chief of the MI6, who had served Queen and country with distinction.

“ _The first woman to become Head of the Secret Intelligence Service, she was seen by her peers as an exceedingly bright individual, known for her unorthodox methods._ ”

“You know shit about her.” Matt declared to the empty room.

_“Gaining the respect of those who had the honour of working with her, she was notorious for her work ethics and firm principles.”_

In the same solemn semblant the reporter carried on recounting how she’d reformed the section and adapted it to the new challenges of the millenium.

The area was visibly packed with security, not just because there were members of the government and Royal Family attending the funeral but also because Britain’s terror threat level had been upgraded to Critical. Such was the result of the attack a week before at the Queen Elizabeth II Centre which had caused 21 victims and had left 67 injured.

In the days that had followed it was revealed that the shooting inside the _Fleming_ room at the conference centre had been perpetrated by four security guards. The consensus was that the principal target had been Hamdan bin Ahmad Al-Bishi; among the victims was his personal security, as well as a number of his business partners.

None of the four gunmen had survived. No terrorist cell had claimed responsibility and no pointers to anyone else could be found. The motive was cast in shadows. The investigation was still ongoing but far from hitting the mark. On the contrary, the situation was growing more and more convoluted.

A former CIA agent and an ex Mossad operative had reportedly been among the gunmen and the fact instantly generated an international incident due to the historically already strained relationship. Saudi Arabia promptly accused Israel of conspiring with the United States against their nation and engineering and carrying out the attack at the humanitarian summit. Both countries vehemently denied the allegations, but the tensions in the Middle East were rising to unprecedented levels. The United Kingdom, amidst internal political turmoil, while mourning the death of several citizens and the loss of their Head of Intelligence, also demanded answers.

As the BBC reporter approached some of the people with flowers who stood outside the Abbey, Matt wondered cynically whether all those would have bothered to show up if M hadn’t lost her life in such a tragic and public event. He regretted the thought almost immediately, admitting that many of those were probably MI6 officers. Just like he’d been, until her untimely death.

His phone pinged and with anyone else he’d ignore it, he wasn’t in the mood. But he couldn’t ignore this specific message tone alert. _Hers._

 

_“The life of the dead is set in the memory of the living.”_

_Cicero_

 

It was the third text she'd sent to him since the summit, after “ _I am sorry for your loss_ ” and then a link to another book. It was also the third that would go unanswered. He tossed the phone to the floor weakly, the turmoil of emotions prodding at him to move.

Dragging himself up from the bed rubbing his face with both hands, he headed to the window, pulling the curtains aside and stepping outside onto the balcony. The sun shone high in a blue sky and the waters of Lake Geneva were crystalline blue. Closing his eyes, he tilted his head back, wishing the sunlight could wipe the grief. Make it all go away.

It had only been a couple of weeks since she’d reminded him of the dangers of their profession. He’d forgotten how that applied not just to him but to herself as well.

He found himself at a crossroads now. Without M, it was as though he’d never existed. In the twenty years he’d served under her, they had barely discussed the implications on Matt’s situation were she to retire or to be replaced. Or murdered. Surely, she had made plans, but he couldn’t say he knew what they were. And with upcoming elections after David Cameron’s resignation, it was possible David Black would cease duties as Foreign Secretary too. Being the only person Matt could reach out to now, the timing was terrible. Any successors could very well just decide that the project M had supervised for so long had become obsolete. An agent who enjoyed global stardom and worked undercover with so much freedom, might not be worth all the risks. Above all, he wasn’t sure if he could trust anyone else with this.

That his future as an intelligence officer was compromised, though, wasn't as important as the future of the investigation that had led to M’s death. He didn’t know who was in charge of it now or who had access to all the information about _Blue Scorpion_ , whether it would be safe from Vee’s interference. He didn’t have anyone to pass on what he’d found out on the day of the shooting and even if he did, he didn’t have enough evidence to support his claim. It would have been enough for M. But she was gone.

Vee had played her hand perfectly. It was clear to him the gunmen had been chosen, brainwashed and used to carry out this attack. The method was all too familiar to him. 

And yet, even though Matt was acutely aware that he had no rational reason for this, in the back of his mind he still tried to convince himself somehow that she was only getting rid of her nasty brother so she could seek other, more noble goals. If it was a way to cope with his failure in recognising her for what she was, he didn’t know.

Everything she’d ever told him, if not a lie, never denied who she was. She’d been like him his entire life - delivering double entendres, leaving words to interpretation. And, in the end, she was also absolutely right: yes, there was a reason he had served the MI6 for so long.

He had no idea what her ingenious plan was to resolve what plagued their world, but it most certainly wouldn’t be pleasant; this was far from being over. In fact, judging by her words and the global impact her brother’s assassination had, it had only just begun. The prospects were scary. And yet, not only did he feel more powerless than ever - he wasn’t so sure anymore which side he stood on.

The insistent knock on the door had barely registered, so immersed he was in his brooding, but a few seconds later he heard Dom. He had used the spare key card.

“Matt? Are you there?”

Predictably, when he heard him again Dom was already on the balcony, approaching him from behind. He wrapped an arm around his waist.

“You okay?”

Freddie Mercury’s statue below caught Matt’s attention when he opened his eyes again. Usually, it inspired him but today it seemed to remind him only of all his inadequacies. He was unable to tear his gaze away,  afraid that if he blinked he wouldn’t be able to stop the outpour of emotions.

“There’s nothing you could have done.”

“Not then, not now.”

He turned around and went inside the room. Chris was sitting at the end of the bed, watching the BBC coverage. He gave Matt a sad smile and lowered the volume on the TV.

“I’m sorry you couldn’t be there.”

Matt snorted and dropped on the bed on his back. “I could never be there. For all purposes, MB-7 never existed. And it all died with her now. _I_ died with her.”

Dom leaned on his side against the window and crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Why are you saying that?”

“Because it’s the truth.”

He pretended he didn’t see the look Dom and Chris shared.

Above the silence that had set in, a TV commentator and a former Tory politician were now discussing the state of Great Britain’s politics and who would succeed David Cameron after his resignation on the outbreak of the Brexit referendum and the aftermath of the London attack on the 26th. Running at the bottom of the screen was a controversial quote by Donald Trump, Republican candidate to the Presidency of the United States, on terrorism and Islamism.

“The world’s gone mad,” Chris whispered.

“She’s right.”

“Who is right?” Dom looked at Matt incredulously. “You can’t possibly mean it.”

“She is,” he repeated.

“She’s a fucking lunatic, mate.” Chris concurred.

Matt laughed. “Maybe I should just go to her. We could team up and get rid of all the fat cats together.”

Dom blew out an exasperated breath. “Alright, you talk bollocks all the time, but you’re crossing a line now. Yeah, shit is looking dire. What are you going to do about it? Lie there, feeling sorry for yourself?”

“Fuck off, Dom.”

“No, _you_ fuck off! That’s what you have to say after all you’ve been through? After all _we_ have been through?”

“Because of me, I know that. No need to remind me of it.”

“No, you fucking dick. It’s because of _you_ that I’m alive.” Dom approached the bed, almost spitting the words. “She would have killed me too if it wasn’t for our connection. Or do you believe that bullshit she told you about me being innocent? You think she cares? She’s a hypocrite.”

Matt sat up slowly, staring pointedly at Chris. He had shared details of the brief exchange he’d had with Vee at the parking lot at the QEII with the bassist, but not with Dom.

“You told him.”

“Of course he fucking told me, I asked him,” Dom shot before Chris could as much as open his mouth. “I’m not gonna let her turn your head and win this without a fight.”

It was his turn to show exasperation at their insistence. “What are you even talking about?”

“He’s right, Matt,” Chris piped in.

“You’re talking out of your arse, as if you know a bloody thing in the first place about-”

“This isn’t who I’ve known all my life,” Dom interrupted, ignoring the jibe. “You don’t give up like this, on anything. M knew you wouldn’t and she knew you as well as we do. Even when she ordered you to stay put she still expected you to act.”

The shameless baiting and reference to M angered Matt beyond belief, but his voice came out small and pitiful when he replied between clenched teeth. “As if you have any idea what her wishes are or would be.”

He glowered at Dom who stood his ground and only stared back in clear provocation. But instead of reacting to it like he usually did, he lay back down flat on the bed, covering his eyes with an arm.

Dom’s phone couldn’t have rung at a better time, breaking the uncomfortable mood setting in. The blond pulled it out of his back pocket, frustration still pouring out even through his voice.

“Yeah, we’re all in Matt’s room. Uh... yeah, maybe?” He turned to the others. “Glen’s asking if we’re good to leave for soundcheck in half an hour.”

They all nodded their agreement and Dom confirmed the arrangement to their tour manager. When he disconnected, he slipped the phone back in his pocket again, sighing loudly.

“So.” Chris stood up, coughing to clear his voice. “I’m gonna head outside and leave you two to your things and uh…” He trailed off.

Matt let his arm slid down to the mattress and stared up at the ceiling.

“We should go for a different setlist tonight. Get some deep cuts in, know what I mean? Put on some silly costumes, do a bit of a party on stage.” There was no emotion in his words. “Montreux was insane last time. We should do a repeat.”

“Whatever you fancy, mate.” Chris smiled. “All about keeping those memories alive. You’re in, yeah, Dom?”

Dom still looked quite upset, but he nodded his agreement.

“Of course.” A small smile slowly crept up on his lips. “We could play Glorious.”

The rebuke from Matt was immediate. “Never gonna happen.”

Chris laughed. “Alright, see you later.”

He shut the door behind him, leaving Matt and Dom alone.

Sliding a leg out of the bed with effort, the other following, Matt forced himself to get up, running his fingers through his hair and ruffling it up.

“I’m gonna put some trousers on and get something to eat at the bar before we leave. You wanna come?”

He passed Dom without looking at him, but he was pulled backwards when a hand shot from behind and grabbed his. He let Dom turn his face towards his, surprising him with a small kiss on the lips.

“I may not be much-”

“You’re everything to me.”

Dom’s breath caught in his throat for a moment, but he carried on, cupping Matt’s face between his hands, despite Matt’s gaze firmly on the floor.

“I may not be much, me and Chris alike, but we’re with you in whatever you need. We’re a team in everything, always. You know that, don’t you?”

It was Matt’s turn to become a little dazed. He nestled into Dom when he was enveloped warmly by his arms, closing his eyes at a whispered _I love you._

 

London, United Kingdom  
_Monday, 4th July 2016  
_ 19:24

 

Chris sipped on his canned drink, one shoulder propped on the wall next to hallway, as he watched Matt and Dom bicker again. Or rather, as he waited for them to finish. He consulted his watch. He wanted to go home and call it a day, and perhaps he should, as they weren’t going anywhere.

They couldn’t agree on scheduling for later in the year. From the office, management had already ended the video conference, politely suggesting them to send in the final plan once decisions were made. It usually wasn’t so difficult when it came to a few scattered tour dates, but things were different these days.

When the doorbell rang, he was glad to have an excuse to abandon the sitting room for a bit.

“I’ll get it, it must be Tom,” he announced, recalling how their friend had said he would be coming over to join in for some drinks later. “Not that any of you seems to care…” he added to no one in particular, both his band mates ignoring him.

Pulling the door open without bothering to check who it was first, he suddenly found himself face to face not with Tom but with a young man in spectacles. The way he stared back at Chris was enough for him to assume the visitor knew exactly who had opened the door for him and how he hadn’t been expecting it.

“Hey, mate, what can I do for you?”

The young man adjusted his glasses and nodded. “Hi. You’re… you’re Christopher Wolstenholme.”

“Yeah.” Chris attempted a smile. He had a funny feeling about this. “Can I help you?”

“Well, um...” He looked down at his shoes before raising his head again. His eyes didn’t go to Chris’ though, instead they swerved to Chris’ right arm and the tattoos that covered it. “I’m here to talk to M-Matthew. Bellamy.”

"Yeah?" He took another sip of his drink and stood up to full height. "And who’re you?"

"I- "I'm... I'm a c-colleague of his."

Intimidated as the young man was, Chris narrowed his eyes and took in his figure again. He looked like he'd barely finished high school. The conservative, formal attire and business shoes completed by the laptop bag that hug from his shoulder did a poor job at making him appear older. He could be anyone. Then came Dom's voice from behind him.

“Q..?”

“Dominic.” The young man raised a hand in greeting, shyly.

Chris had heard that name before, of course, and realised the visitor’s appearance was very deceiving. Looking between the two men, he noted the surprised but welcoming expression on Dom’s face. He also tried not to roll his eyes at the slight blush that formed on the young man’s cheeks when Dom smiled. Never failed.

“Hello.” Dom stepped closer to the door, offering a hand which Q shook politely. “I’m sorry about…” He didn’t finish the sentence and Q lowered his head, pursing his lips and nodding.

“It was a shock for everyone.”

A small silence set in before Dom spoke again. “What are you doing here?”

That seemed to get him out of his daze.

“I need to speak to… you know. It’s important.”

Dom shared a look with Chris before the bassist stepped away, inviting Q in with a welcoming hand. They closed the door behind him and Dom allowed himself to guide their guest inside.

Matt was stretching and yawning on the couch gracelessly when they came into the sitting room and Dom pointed at the obvious.

“There’s someone here for you, Matt.”

The two officers were already looking at each other, a strange silence setting in with the new guest’s arrival.

“Q.”

“MB-7.”

Matt looked stunned for a whole second before his eyes darted around, as if making sure there was nobody else around. He didn’t move from the couch, but his whole body tensed up at the visit.

Q went straight to the point. “I need to speak with you.”

“You shouldn’t be here.”

“I had nowhere else to go.”

Chris and Dom exchanged another look and it was the blond who spoke up for them.

“Maybe we should leave you to-”

Matt leaned back on the couch and crossed his arms. “No, you stay. He’s just leaving.”

Q started, mouth opening and closing, and Dom tilted his head to one side in disapproval.

“You’re being rude.”

“Please,” Q tried again. “You want to hear what I have to say.”

“There’s nothing-”

“There is. You just don’t know it and that’s why I’m here.”

Chris couldn’t help but notice the similarity of the young man’s speech to Matt’s back in the day. Fast with occasional stuttering and a lack of confidence that concealed the importance of his words.

Matt was visibly bothered and he stood up, rubbing his small stubble nervously without facing any of them. Suddenly he took off in their direction and walked past them.

“Where are you going?” Dom exclaimed, opening his arms.

“Out for a walk,” Matt replied, collecting a set of keys. “We’re not gonna talk here.” He stared at Q, whose eyes lit up, not needing to be told twice where the door was. “I’ll meet you up at the pub later.”

Tom Kirk was just outside with his hand raised to knock when they opened the door.

“Hi!”

The trio watched Matt walk out of the garden with his hands jammed in his pockets, Q clutching his bag at his side.

“Who’s that bloke?” Tom asked.

Dom kept his eyes on the pair with a hopeful gaze. “If we’re lucky, Matt’s next partner at you know what.”

 

_19:42_

 

Q trotted next to him with a hunched back, his fingers clawing around the laptop bag as if he was protecting something precious. Which he most likely was, given that a lot of his work was stored on the device.

They walked through Regent’s Park in silence. Matt still wasn’t sure why he had agreed to Q’s request when he had no interest in what the other man had to say anyway.

He sighed and then stuffed his hands in his pockets, bracing himself.

“So, how are you holding up?”

Q swallowed, his throat bobbing as he looked down on the pavement.

“Okay, I guess. It’s been… weird,” he answered quietly. “Life goes on. Work is like usual.  But it feels... different.”

“She brought you into the Service, right?”

“Yes.” Q nodded and rubbed at his jacket clad upper arm. “Pulled me off straight from university. Persuaded me to give it a chance.” He laughed awkwardly. “Or rather, blackmailed me into joining.”

That made Matt’s lips twitch, the first reaction of a genuine smile for a week.

“Yes. She knew exactly how to get what she wanted.”

They fell silent again afterwards, continuing their walk through the park. After the torrents of rain from the last couple of days, yesterday and today had been nothing but sunshine, giving the impression that even the UK could have something remotely resembling summer once in a while. And it seemed that the people of London made sure to use every single second of it; the park was much livelier than Matt had seen it these past months.

It took them a while to find a bench that was unoccupied and out of earshot, just across Queen Mary’s Rose Gardens. Matt sat down heavily. Q followed after a second, the laptop bag now situated on his lap with the same protective grip from before.

They watched the passers-by for a bit, a young couple with a Labrador puppy holding their interest for most of the time.

Matt never spent much time with his quartermaster, even though he’d made it a habit to pop in to retrieve his new gadgets himself after his identity had been lifted. Why he had shown up at his doorstep now was a mystery, and it was beginning to grate on his nerves that he had plucked up the courage to go to him but now sat there fidgeting with the strap of his bag. At the same time, he didn’t want to hear anything about Vee or M or Hamdan or _Blue Scorpion_ anymore.

“What do you want from me, Q?” he finally asked.

“The investigation is on hold, now that M’s gone. There’s nobody going after _Blue Scorpion_ and who knows what’s gonna happen to the Service from now on,” Q explained. “So you should know everything that M’s found out since last year.”

He shook his head. “I don’t wanna hear it.”

“But she died because of it,” Q said. “You know this wasn’t a coincidence.”

Matt didn’t reply.

“These men… They were drones. Not terrorists like the public believes.”

Keeping quiet, Matt contemplated his reply for a moment.

“They were, yes.”

“M had been at the summit to investigate personally. We didn’t…” He sighed. “ We didn’t see this coming.. And killing their own leader too. It has spiralled completely out of control.”

“It’s gone out of control long ago,” Matt said, looking up at the tree crowns. “But it wasn’t their leader they killed. Just a pawn.”

Q’s head turned to him in question.

“It was his sister. Veeda.”

“But… are you sure?”

Matt chuckled bitterly. “Very sure.”

“Of course," Q said thoughtfully and then hastily added, "Of course you're sure or you wouldn't have said it... She was never under investigation. The name popped up in a few reports, but nothing pointed to her being the big fish.” He seemed disturbed by the revelation. “M had tracked the organisation down to Al-Bishi and was planning to lure him with a potential arms deal for the Service.” He looked down at his feet. “I can’t believe she was on the wrong track.”

“Yeah, well, she wasn’t the only one.”

Q went quiet again, the new information throwing him off track.

“So, it looks like we’re done here. There’s not much you have to tell me, after all.”

“No, please. There’s more,” Q insisted. “Let me show you. Please.”

Q didn’t waste any time and put the laptop bag flat on his thighs. He opened the zipper, carefully extracting the device inside. Flipping it open, he hit the power button and watched the screen come to life.

“When M received the external disks and files from Sigismondi you sent to her she was, well, furious, but at the same time intrigued at what you found,” he said. Matt looked away. “From what I know she’d been trying to get her hands on these exact same files after Sigismondi’s side offices were raided after his death, but they’d vanished into thin air. ”

“I never found out if you managed to extract any information of what I’d sent,” Matt said dismissively. “She made sure not to mention a word about it.”

“The folders were decoded,” Q explained, opting not to comment on what Matt had said, “but we had received the key a few months before from the investigation of the Thompson case.”

“And?” Matt asked to prompt him.

“One of the folders described a facility in the North West of Kazakhstan, close to the Russian border. And more importantly, there was a new entry which was made just a day after Sigismondi was killed. We can only guess that one of his team members had kept the documents up to date shortly before their actions ceiced.” He looked away in sudden discomfort.” Anyway, there was a new delivery noted down, processed on highest priority. And the name of the new inmate might be very familiar to you.”

He tried, but Matt could feel his body going rigid at that information.

“You mean Dom.”

He’d been so close to find out about Dom’s fate even before going to Kazakhstan. He’d held the information in his own hands, but had sent it off to his superior. Who he had then evaded up until coming home.

How many things had he fucked up in the past months, how many things wrongly deduced? It seemed like the list was getting longer and longer.

“M was sure you’d found out by then that he was held there and that’s why you went out of the country, so she told me to track your devices and cards, but you’d gotten rid of everything already. She contacted your friend Christopher in an attempt to find out exactly what your plans were.”

The laptop had long been booted up, but only now Q started to navigate through different folders.

“The facility had been completely destroyed when the MI6 arrived, that you know,” he continued and navigated through several folders, each locked by a longer password than the last. “ “Forensics went in and managed to salvage some information, mainly concerning the research this facility conducted. I’ve got it all here.”

“Good on you, I guess,” Matt said and stemmed his hands on his thighs, ready to get up.

At the prospect of his departure, Q fumbled around, one hand shooting out to Matt’s thigh next to him. As soon as he realised what he was doing he retracted his hand, the slight blush only badly concealed when he pressed his chin into his jacket.

“Look, I’ve got something else, something that will definitely interest you.”

Matt mock tutted at that. He doubted Q had anything that would interest him right now. Nevertheless, he relaxed his posture. He could leave easily and without looking back, but he felt compelled to prove a point.

When Q was sure Matt wouldn’t bolt he concentrated back on his laptop and opened a different folder.

“We didn’t make any more progress on the implant after you… err, visited me at my place back then, so M suggested a metal testing of the chip to analyse it.”

Matt leaned forward slightly, suddenly more interested than he cared to admit. Q took that as a good sign and showed several graphics and pointed at them as if any of it was helpful.

“Most of it was uninteresting for the investigation, but then M told me to analyse the components further. I split the IGZO in its origin components and then ran them through radiographic testing. That way I was able to pin down their structure and origin.”

He navigated to yet another folder, clicking through files.

“The zinc that was used in this is very specific. Usually, commercial zinc is blueish-white, with a mostly dull finish. This one was lustrous and, more importantly, green-silver. There’s only one mine in the world where this kind of zinc is getting processed, and it’s in Peru. And…” With one click a list of names popped up on the side. “There’s only one company being supplied with the metal, Al-Bishi Tech Industries.”

“I’ve heard that one before,” Matt commented.

“And more interestingly, we found something from January 2011 that connected him to Sigismondi.”

Q clicked on an image file in the same folder. A newspaper article popped up about a humanitarian project. What was more important, however, was the photo next to the article.

It was a photo of Sigismondi and Al-Bishi, shaking hands.

“We ran the picture through geo analysis and found a match in Singapore, headquarters of Al-Bishi Tech Industries.”

Matt stared at the photo on the screen. The face of his ex-handler still made his insides churn with discomfort. For a short moment he could have sworn the eyes were fixed on him, mocking him, a voice in his head laughing at his inability to be a good drone.

“That was our final clue that they were connected,” Q said softly and watched Matt lost in his thoughts.

The singer shook his head and then crossed his arms defensively, averting his gaze from the screen. Instead he looked straight ahead in thought.

“So, why are you telling me all this?” he asked angrily. “M had this information lying around for so long and didn’t bother to give any of it to me.” She could be alive now, had he known more sooner. More data could have led him on a different path. “Do you think that just because she’s dead I now deserve to know the truth? Is that it?”

“No, it’s not that,” Q hurried to say and flailed his arms, almost knocking down the laptop. “It’s just, someone came to the lab last night. I went out to deliver an order and caught him looking through my microscope. New officer. Apologised and said he was curious.”

“And?” He waited, but Q didn’t elaborate further. “You’re afraid the MI6 was infiltrated again.”

“Yes.”

Of course. Vee worked quickly. It was entirely possible she’d plant more drones, it was a legit concern.

He sighed. “I’m probably just overreacting. But after everything that’s happened, I can’t help but think I’m next.”

“I’m not sure what you want from me,” Matt said. “I can’t protect you from-“

“I don’t want you to protect me,” Q interrupted him. “I want you to protect this.”

His hand vanished inside his jacket and he seemed to pull something from the chest pocket. When he pulled it out, he held a small, square shaped box. He handed it to Matt, who stared at it with furrowed brows until it finally clicked.

Matt knew what it was; hidden inside the slightly, milky container, he could still spot the small black chip on an almost see-through material, only interrupted by very thin, golden copper lines.

The implant they had used to brainwash him.

“I couldn’t leave it at the lab,” Q said in an attempt to explain his theft. “And I can’t leave it at my place, that will be the first location they’ll be looking for when they find out I took it.”

He closed the laptop and put the box on it, holding both carefully while he opened the laptop bag. His other hand went inside to pull out a package full of folders, neatly tied with thin white rope.

“And this is everything that M worked on concerning Al-Bishi and his affiliates,” he explained.  “I printed all my results on the chip as well, so this is up to date up to-“ He stopped himself, the whole thing still too fresh to speak aloud. “ _Please_ take them and have a look.”

Matt looked at the folders in his hand and then at the chip. It was pointless. All investigations and researches in this world wouldn’t do anything. No matter how much they knew, it was too late to do anything about it. Vee was already ten steps ahead, with no way to catch up.

“Listen,” he said. “This is all very nice and all, but honestly? I can’t help you.”

“You’re the only one who can help. Please, at least keep it safe.”

“I don’t-“ He closed his eyes and tilted his head upward with a sigh. “Okay. I’ll take it with me. But that’s it.”

He pocketed the small box and clipped the folders under his arm and stood up. He made the mistake of turning his gaze to his quartermaster, who looked up at him with big eyes. Matt hated it.

“Please go home and don’t call or visit me again.”

“But-“

“No,” Matt interrupted him. “No. For all purposes I am not and have never been affiliated with the Service. I’m not the person you should put your hopes in. I’m done. This is over. Good night.”

And he walked away without a look back.

 


End file.
